


Stray

by Apricitic



Series: The Stray Series [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 89,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricitic/pseuds/Apricitic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papillon, increasingly desperate, accepts a great sacrifice in return for a dangerous power-up. Ladybug, cornered, fights for survival. Exiled and alone, a reeling Chat Noir races through the streets of Paris, unable to purify the swarm of akumas flying overhead, as he searches for a way to set things right.</p><p>(Spoilers for all of season one ahead.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Papillon watched the window close before him, and wondered how many times he had looked at a scene just like this one. Dozens, more than dozens. He had long ago lost track. The faint breeze trickling in through the aperture choked off, and a moment later, the shutter slid down over the glass. All was stale air and dark. Another failure, another waste of time, energy, and bitter feelings. And still no closer to reaching his goal.

“Nng.” He felt the draining of energy suddenly. It had been five minutes since the akuma had been purified, after all. Nooroo peeled away from him along with the suit, along with all feelings of power and control.

“That one was especially poorly planned, Master,” Nooroo rasped, settling on a railing behind him. “Are you running out of ideas, I wonder? This is honestly starting to get a little boring.”

The man who had been Papillon scoffed. Nooroo had been insufferable at first, when they had first started doing this, always begging and pleading to not be forced to do evil. It had continued on and on for months. But slowly, as the weeks passed and they cycled through more and more akuma, Nooroo had begun to change. Now the kwami, who had before been so soft-spoken and gentle, had razored edges and nerves, all scornful looks and cutting remarks. The more dark energy Papillon passed through him, the more Nooroo’s personality was slowly souring, changing the kwami against his will into someone much more bitter and vindictive. Unfortunately for Papillon, annoying pleading had just given way to annoying criticism.

“My plan was without error,” the man standing in shadow said, running a hand through his hair slowly. “The failure came from the incompetence of others, both the host we used, and yours. I am the only one, it seems, who can do anything correct around here.”

“Mine?” Nooroo asked, with frayed, indignant laughter. “My failure? How exactly did _I_ fail? I did exactly what you told me to, _Master_ , and no more.”

“It’s not in your actions, but your intrinsic properties,” the man said, turning to face him in the darkened observatory. “It is no wonder we cannot win very easily, against two other kwamis, and better ones at that. Your powers are useful enough, but there are so many limitations.”

“Is that really your problem?” Nooroo asked, angry now. “What limitations? Is there any form that you _can't_ turn one of your victims into? I’d like to see the ladybug or cat kwamis do that!”

“‘One’ of my victims,” the man repeated, shaking his head. “Just one at a time. Each one with weaknesses, each one with a vulnerable object, and each one so very, very stupid.”

“Oh.”

The man looked up. An uncharacteristic nasty tone had crept into the butterfly kwami’s voice. He flittered up, looking down at the man, a baleful look in his eyes. “So that’s it. You need more champions than just the one? A man such as you… Of course you’d be upset you weren’t allowed to break all of the rules, as soon as they were laid out in front of you.”

“Nooroo,” the man warned, not liking his tone.

“What if I told you,” Nooroo said, “that there is a way? A way to cheat, to create as many as you like? That is, assuming you were _competent_ enough to pull it off. It’s taboo, but someone like you, that would hardly matter, right?”

The man frowned. “Why is it taboo? And why haven’t you told me before now?”

More ragged, unsteady laughter. “You can’t do it on just normal power. You have to supplement it with some of your own life energy, to shorten your lifespan. But look at you, Master! You fail over and over again. You’ll never get those miraculouses on your own, not if you try a thousand times. If you want to reach your goal, you’re going to have to sacrifice a little, aren’t you?”

The man was quiet for a moment. He glanced down at his miraculous, opened it to look at the portrait inside. Nooroo was beyond annoying. But, though he hated to admit it… The kwami was right, in this case. If he wanted to succeed, and he so very badly needed to succeed…

“No matter, then,” the man said. “Tell me what I have to do.”

 

.:|:.

 

As was so often the case, the problem had started with Chloe.

Marinette slid into her seat in class, confused. Despite leaving Chat Noir to finish cleaning up, she was beyond late, thanks to a three-story house fire all the way on the other side of the city. She had expected to run into the classroom, out of breath, and immediately be caught and chastised by Miss Bustier.

Instead, there was no Miss Bustier at the podium, or even a substitute teacher. The students were clustered into groups throughout the room, talking and playing on their phones, a few throwing paper planes. Juleka and Rose were slowly shifting toward the door, clearly about to make a break for it. She could hardly blame them. If her watch was right, class was already half-over.

“Where is the teacher?” she asked Alya, carefully putting her bag down so Tikki wouldn’t be jostled inside. “Was class cancelled or something?” Nino sat in front of them as usual, but it looked like Adrien had already decided to go, not even a backpack left behind in his place.

“Psh, no, or believe me, I’d be gone,” Alya said. She dramatically held up her cell phone, showing Marinette footage of the house fire that had happened while Alya had been stuck in class. On the small screen, Ladybug zipped by, inches from the camera, a distracted look on her face. “It might as well be, but with Ms. Bustier fired, I guess everyone in the office is too busy to bother letting us know if we can leave or not.”

“Fired? Why?!”

“Shh,” Alya said. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Why else? Chloe failed that test from the other day, and tried to pressure her into changing the grade, apparently. Ms. Bustier wouldn’t do it, Chloe told some obvious lies and got her father involved, and…” Alya waved her hand, a disgusted look on her face. “You know Mr. Damocles. Guy has the backbone of a mighty earthworm.”

“You’re kidding!” Marinette turned in her seat to glare down at Chloe. The blonde girl’s nose was high in the air, a smug expression on her face. “That’s going too far, even for her.”

“Believe me, girl, I agree,” Alya said. “I’m having a hard time thinking of something to do about it, though. There’s no proof, and that girl has most of the school staff wrapped around her finger.”

Marinette slumped in her chair. “We’ll come up with something,” she said, tired and beginning to feel the ache from the triple cartwheels she had pulled earlier. “We always do. And Miss Bustier is nice! She doesn’t deserve that.“

“Yeah,” Alya said, leaning her chin on her hand with a sigh. “Very nice. She’s got to be the only one in this room by now who hasn’t been hit with an aku--”

The door slammed open. Marinette’s heart leapt, thinking it might be Adrien. Before she could turn to see, though, three beams had already been fired. Screams, the sound of running and overturning books and bags.

Max, Kim, and Juleka had already begun to turn, dark energy overtaking their forms. Marinette watched as Rose was hit next, before Alya grabbed her and pulled them both under the desk. From two feet off the ground, they had a perfect viewpoint to watch Kim, hunched over, sprouting wings from his back with a pained groan. Behind him, Max looked just as pained, as his clothes shifted around his body and his glasses contorted into a butterfly shape.

Evil high-pitched laughter rose above the noise. “That’s right, dear students, time for your review!” someone called. “Heed the call of Madame Refrain!”

“Miss Bustier?” Alya hissed. “I don’t get it. What connection does that have to—“

“She’s turning our classmates back into their akumatized forms,” Marinette said, crouching low. “And we have a lot of classmates that have been akumatized before. We’re going to have to figure out Miss Bustier’s motivations later.”

Alya blew out. “Can we run out the door, or…?”

“Blocked,” Marinette said, looking around frantically from her limited viewpoint. And the sounds of screams and beams firing were getting closer, as though Ms. Bustier were systematically moving through the rows and picking students off. Similar to the Puppeteer’s power, but with an unlimited number of dolls, or…? “It’s going to have to be the window.”

“Are you kidding?” Alya asked, nearly drowned out by the Bubbler’s manic laughter mere feet away. “This isn’t the ground floor! Maybe if we tackle her, or if Ladybug shows up like always...“

A pause in the beams, and the sound of high heels clacking on the floor, walking toward them. Ladybug wasn’t going to come at all if they didn’t get out of here fast. “Just trust me, Alya. Run!”

She darted out from under the desk, sprinting for the window and trying to stay low. A few colored blasts burst against backpacks and books as she skirted through the opposite row, reaching out for the window handle. So close—

A blast of colored light hit, directly to her face. She yelled and paused for a moment, looking down at herself in horror.

Nothing happened. “Oh, right. Haha, I’ve never been akumat—“

Alya screamed. Marinette whipped around and watched as black and white began to pour over her best friend.

“Marinette,” Tikki called, warning. “If you want to save them, you’ve got to get out of here and transform!”

Tikki was right. Swallowing, Marinette made herself turn toward the window. Without Ladybug’s innate superpowered reflexes, the movements were a lot less coordinated. But even clumsy Marinette could kick through a brittle window. She jumped, shouting “Transform me!” And immediately, she closed her eyes, hoping she could complete the transformation before she hit the ground.

Falling. Falling. Something hard and cold grabbed under her arm suddenly and shoved her back into a wall. She yelped.

After a moment, she dared to open an eye.

Green slitted eyes stared back at her, confused. “So… What? You were just going to let yourself hit the ground?”

“Ch-Chat Noir,” she said, nerves frayed from the near miss. His pole was extended, and she was hanging from it, pinned to the brick maybe ten feet off the ground. “I was going to tuck and roll. It was going to be okay, you know!”

“Sure,” he said, grinning. “Still, you’re lucky I came along, Princess. It’s cats that land on their feet, not ladybugs.”

Ladybug exhaled, and let herself drop off into a crouch. “I had to make a fast exit. There’s an akuma wreaking havoc up there. I-in that, uh, random classroom.”

She pointed up at the broken window. Just as she did, all of the villains that were capable of flight began pouring out from it, looking around, presumably for Marinette.

“The Bubbler? Again?” Chat Noir asked, looking up. “And Heartbreaker, and--”

“And a lot of them,” Ladybug said, with one final exhale. “It’s the teacher, a Miss Bustier, I think. Somehow, she has the power to shoot beams that turn them all back into their akumatized forms. It doesn’t work on us, though, or at least, it didn’t on me.”

“She managed to shoot you?” Chat Noir asked. “Ladybug! You should be more careful!”

“You’re full of criticisms today,” Ladybug noted, unhooking her yoyo from her waist. She sized up the distance, and sent it flying toward Heartbreaker’s ankle.

“Can you blame me?” Chat Noir said. “I’m worried for you! Besides, if something were to happen to you, we would have as good as lost.” He extended his pole suddenly, thwacking first Lady Wifi, then the Gamer, out of the sky.

Ladybug swung her yoyo, sending Heartbreaker crashing into the bubble that the Bubbler was using to fly. She stepped out of the way before they could fall on her, yanking on the string to soften the angle of their fall. “Nothing will! I’m okay. This current situation is… confusing, but we can wrap it up quickly. We just need to find Miss Bu—um, Madame Refrain, and then they’ll all change back. It must be a Puppeteer situation.”

Chat Noir shook his head. “I still think—hey.” The Bubbler has been lifting his wand, about to hit him with a burst of bubbles. Chat Noir extended his pole backwards instead, knocking it out of the villain’s hands. The pole pushed it to the ground… And it shattered.

Together, Ladybug and Chat Noir watched a black butterfly flap upwards from the broken gun.

“I thought you said the teacher was the one with the akuma,” Chat Noir said.

“I did,” Ladybug replied. Frantically, she began tugging on her yoyo, trying to get it untangled from the villains before the butterfly could escape. “Or at least, I thought it was. This isn’t supposed to be one of the Bubbler’s powers!”

“Maybe he’s upgraded,” Chat Noir said. “Or maybe…” He struck out suddenly, and Heartbreaker roared in rage as the pendant that had spawned on his chest cracked. Another black butterfly fluttered out.

“You’re kidding me,” Ladybug said. “They ALL have akumas?!”

Chat Noir leaped into the air, clapping his claws over the first akuma. He tightened his grip on it, while Ladybug flicked her yoyo toward the other. “Can you purify two at once?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “As long as I don’t use Lucky Charm, I _probably_ won’t have to change back soon, but I’m going to have to purify these one by one.”

Chat Noir sighed, looking down at his clasped hands. “We’re in for a busy day, then.”

“Just wait until we start in on the others,” Ladybug said, beginning to spin the yoyo. “We were barely able to stop some of them the first time. And since Madame Refrain can spread into Paris and create them faster than we can un-create them…”

“I don’t understand it,” Chat Noir said, watching the small bursts of dark light between his fingers as the akuma tried to escape. “It goes against everything we thought we knew about the rules. Only Papillon should be able to create akumas. And even he hasn’t ever been able to make more than one at a time before.”

“Hey. Chin up, kitty.” Ladybug flung the yoyo up into the air, releasing a pure white butterfly. “We’ll get through this. We always do, right? You just hold these ones down--” She gestured at the groaning, stunned villains all around them-- “while I work through the akumas one by one. It just takes teamwork.” A small, uncertain laugh. “So you can’t get possessed this time, or it’ll be really bad for us, okay?”

Chat Noir hesitated. Ladybug was waiting for him to release his hold on Nino’s akuma. The others would be coming around soon, and he really should help her keep them under control. But… “Ladybug. You were saying, before, that the new one-- Madame Refrain, right?-- was causing all of this.”

“I thought she was,” she said, puzzled. “It looked like she was. But if they all have their own akumas, then even if we stop Madame Refrain…”

“I was just thinking,” he said, “about how much easier it would have been, if we could have ignored these ones for a little while and gone straight after the source. But… Actually, we still can, I think.” He lifted his hands, and the akuma caged inside. “Papillon. No matter how he’s doing this now, he’s the true source. We stop him, and we stop every akuma, all at once.”

“But… But we don’t even know where he is!”

“This akuma does,” he said, shaking his hands. Dark energy pulsed out indignantly from between his fingers, and he felt the weird tingling sensation, of Plagg fending off the akuma’s advances. “If I release it, it will fly straight back to Papillon, I bet.”

“Probably, but…”

“I have a good feeling about this,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be nice to stop Papillon once and for all? Let me try it! The worst that could happen is that it doesn’t fly back, I’ll catch it again, and I’ll bring it back to you.”

Ladybug exhaled, then slowly smiled. “Well… You have a point. Just be careful!” She drew her yoyo back sharply. The Gamer had been coming around, until the yoyo smacked between his eyes and knocked him out cold. His glasses shattered from the impact, and she snatched up the akuma the moment it appeared. “I’ll try to finish up here, to make sure they don’t hurt anyone. Let me know as soon as you find Papillon.”

“As you wish, my lady,” he said, smugly bowing. He opened his hands, and the akuma fluttered out as quickly as its little wings would allow. He slowly counted to three before pushing his pole into the ground, springing upwards, and beginning the chase.

Normally he loved the thrill of jumping between rooftops, tireless and acrobatic. This time, he managed to remain serious and focused, eyes constantly targeted on the black wings above. The butterfly didn’t lead him on too difficult of a path, mostly sticking to familiar streets that Adrien had walked or been driven through hundreds of times before.

He began to feel uneasy once they entered a certain neighborhood, one so public and aristocratic, it didn’t make any sense that a supervillain would be hiding there.

When they reached the mansion, his heart sank.

He perched on an overhang, watching the akuma zip into one of the open windows. For a moment, it felt as though he couldn’t breathe, his chest tight, his limbs shaking.

Finally, he got a grip on himself, and lifted his staff. Ladybug wasn’t answering her phone, no doubt fighting akumas. But he could leave a message, at least.

“Found him. Agreste Mansion. Don’t come. I’m sorry, Ladybug. I’m going to look into this one on my own first.”


	2. Part 2

Chat Noir perched on the window sill, taking slow breaths in and out. His hands were shaking, and he knew from painful experience that if he wasn’t careful, such strong emotions might activate Cataclysm on accident. He had to calm down. His father was always warning him about this, about his tendency toward being overemotional and losing control.

His father… His father, who was definitely scheduled to be home today, supposedly reviewing design proposals. There were two possibilities, if the butterfly had led Chat Noir here. One, that Papillon had broken into his home temporarily, for some reason, and had possibly taken his father hostage. That was the _better_ possibility! The other… The other was unimaginable. Wasn’t it?

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. Chat Noir was better than Adrien. Chat Noir could control his emotions, and do incredible things, and get the mission done without constant, constant failure. Chat Noir shouldn’t have a personal connection to this situation at all. So he swallowed once, steadied his hands, and lifted the window that, these days, Adrien always made sure was left unlocked. Smoothly, he dropped inside and landed on his feet in Adrien’s room.

It was unbelievably easy to sneak through the house. He met no one as he passed through silent marble hallways. That in itself sent a slight chill down his spine, though. The house was always quiet and lonely. But there had always been small, subconscious noises. The hum of various machines. The click of a clock, the gentle hushing of a mop or broom the maid moved over the cold floors. Occasional opening and closing doors, subtle signs that over living beings were moving about elsewhere in the giant building. Now, the air felt uncomfortably cold, and there was no atmospheric sound. Even with windows letting in soft daylight, the further he went, the more he felt like he was walking deep into a crypt.

No Nathalie, no Gorilla. And no Gabriel Agreste, not in his study, or his bedroom, or the kitchen, or… Chat Noir quickly climbed the stairs, the knot in his throat tightening. The attic, the upstairs atrium, the guest bedrooms, and the rooftop pagoda. That was all that was left. If they were empty, then surely everyone had just gone out for a surprise press conference or something, right?

He knew he was in trouble when one of the doors was locked. Roughly two centuries before, when the street lights in Paris were only somewhat overwhelming and obstructive to the sky, Michel Agreste had been an avid astronomer. A very expensive, nice observatory with beautiful steel-framed moving windows had been installed, giving a wide view of the sky and the city below it. But his children and grandchildren had not inherited a passion for the stars, and the light pollution had increased too much to see anything anyways. For as long as Adrien could remember, it had simply been a spare room, occasionally made up for visitors, but usually full of shelves and boxes, accumulating dust.

It had never been locked before, though. At least, he didn’t think so. He hadn’t had a reason to come up to this room in years. He pulled hard on the handle, inspected the hinges, searched for a weakness. He found none, and he knew that the door had a layer of steel. There would be no mere kicking it in. Should he go ahead and use his Cataclysm on it, this early? If Papillon was inside, he would only have five minutes to defeat him. If not, he would have wasted it, and would have to waste more valuable time while Plagg recharged.

No, he just had to think more creatively. It was what Ladybug would have done. He ducked into a nearby room and out its window, and was skirting along the outside of the building in moments. The shutters were lowered over the valuable antique glass, of course, but there was a latch for the window cleaners to reach them easily from outside. It was short work to find the small catch beneath one of the panels and slowly, carefully slide it open. From there it was easy, quick work to push his baton in between sliding pieces of glass, and pry them open far enough for him to slip inside.

His green slitted eyes adjusted instantly to the darkness. It seemed, without him ever noticing, the boxes and shelves had long since been silently removed. Instead, the room was wide open, empty, and dark. A couple of chairs and a table were set up against a far wall, behind the rail. Besides that, nothing.  
Movement caught his eye, and he looked up. Hundreds-- no, _thousands_ of white butterflies.

A click, and a slow creak. Light spilled into the room from the opening door. Chat Noir stumbled back, pressing his back to the wall, baton up. Nowhere to hide.

Gabriel Agreste sagged into the room, holding on to the doorframe. Chat Noir had to suppress a gasp at his appearance, skin pale, hair disheveled, hands shaking badly. As soon as his foot landed in the chamber, several dark butterflies zipped down from the ceiling, latching onto him. The man cried out in pain as dark energy crackled around them, his knees giving out beneath him.

Chat Noir wasn’t able to hold back a sound that time. As Gabriel looked up, Chat Noir could tell that his shock and horror must be written all over his face, mask or not. Familiar blue eyes locked onto the superhero, and narrowed.

“Monsieur Agreste, was it?” Chat Noir said, stepping forward cautiously. “Are you alright? What’s happening to you?”

“Chat Noir.” Groaning, Gabriel slowly pulled himself up along the doorframe again, then propped himself against it. “Would you care to tell me what, exactly, you’re doing in my house?”

Now or never. Chat Noir forced his best cocky smile and grandiose bow. “Pardon me, _monsieur_. But I have reason to believe the Papillon may be hiding somewhere in your house. Have you seen him, by chance?”

“Hmph. And Ladybug, is she with you?”

Chat Noir glanced up, frowning. “Is that a yes or a no, Monsieur Agreste?”

Gabriel took a slow breath, then walked toward the railing, adjusting his tie and his hair as he went. “Interesting. Neither of us is fond of answering questions. And both of us seem a little tense around each other. Do you have any idea why? I think that I might.”

“I only want to stop Papillon,” Chat Noir said, unnerved. “We both do, don’t we?”

“…”

“Monsieur Agreste?!”

 _CLUNK_. Something loud, metallic, and very heavy fell, somewhere nearby. Chat Noir jumped, looking around wildly. Above, the butterflies were beginning to swirl, agitated.

“Last chance, Chat Noir!” Gabriel called, raising his voice over the noises. “If you have something to confess to me, do it now! Do it, and I promise you, there will be no hard consequences.” Gabriel turned to face him again, eyes searching and strangely vulnerable. “If you care anything for me at all, you will do it. If not, I can’t promise what may or may not happen!”

Chat Noir stepped backwards, stunned, watching the man. He hesitated, claws tightening around his baton.

“…I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Monsieur Agr—“

“ _IDIOT!_ ” Gabriel slammed his fist down hard on the railing, only to bend over coughing. “Then that’s it, is it? You leave me no choice! Nooroo! Transform me!”

Only when the man opened his hand did Chat Noir see, too late, the butterfly-shaped pin. His breathing caught as the purple kwami flew out from Gabriel’s jacket, pulled against its will into the miraculous. Gabriel doubled over in pain as white and purple light engulfed him, removing Adrien’s father and leaving behind only, unmistakably, Papillon.

“Stop!” Chat Noir yelled, frantic. “That’s… That’s not you! It’s an illusion. There’s an akuma, or…”

“There is no akuma, not in me,” Papillon said, turning to face him.

“There must be!” Chat Noir said. “It’s in your cane! Or that pin, or… Or someone else has the akuma! Some power to make you like this. You would never, ever--!”

“Aren’t you listening, Adrien?!”

Stunned silence.

“It’s me,” Papillon said. “It’s been me, all along. And it seems we both have, for too long, been keeping secrets from each other.” He sighed, looking down at one gloved hand. “I was justified. I wanted to protect you. I didn’t know you were already doing such foolish… I don’t know what your justification is.”

“Father…” Chat Noir spread his hands, pleading. “If you’re really Papillon, you are hurting a lot of people. I know you. I love you, Father. You could never—“

“I can,” Papillon said, stepping toward him, leaning heavily on his cane. “I have. And I will. You must understand. Once I have both miraculouses, none of it will even matter.” He held out his hand. “So… Adrien…”

“No!” Chat Noir stepped back, lifting his staff. Still in denial, still trying to reason, to make all of this not real. “Stop it! Don’t make me fight you. I’ll… I’ll…”

“Pity,” Papillon said softly. “Still overemotional, like always. You can’t stop and think, Adrien. Just like your mother. So, for her, for you both…” He waved his hand, but not at Chat Noir. Chat Noir had been distracted, and noticed too late the feline instincts, of something behind him. He turned to look—

 _Thunk_.

Pain. Bursts of light. Then nothing but cold.

…

He wasn’t sure for how long he was out. It didn’t feel like long, but maybe it was. As painful consciousness swam back over him, he felt himself being dragged over cold floor. The thing pulling him by his bare arms was not human, limbs shaped like those of some giant insect, a grasshopper or tarantula. His head hurt, and despite fighting, he sank into the dark again.

Another minute or two? A few hours? He was laying on his side, cheek pressed to cold stone. His wrists were being pulled in front of him, cold metal clasped around them. Heavy, heavy…

…

“Pl…agggggg…..”

Fight it, fight it. Had to wake up. Had to think.

Papillon stood several feet away, back turned to him, looking out through glass windows. Akumas were constantly dropping from the ceiling, pulling dark energy from his body, then flying out through the glass. Didn’t… Didn’t make sense. That many, so constant… Someone would see… Would know where…

Plagg… Pl… Plagg! His ring! He snapped to consciousness, and started up, ignoring the piercing pain in his head. Chains yanked him back down immediately. He was connected to an iron ring in the floor, and he couldn’t get any higher than on his knees. “Father!” he yelled. “Give it back! Right now!”

“Hush,” Papillon said, distracted. A pink butterfly-shaped light surrounded the man’s face, and he stared off, at something Adrien couldn’t see. “Nathalie, give him something for the pain, if he needs it.”

A hiss to his side. He glanced over, and felt his heart drop. Nathalie was in the shadows, but whatever she had been akumatized into, it wasn’t human. Something spider-like, her multiple arms skittered over a bank of computers set up on a giant web, monitors displaying news, traffic conditions, maps, financial transactions, and all sorts of charts and graphs Adrien didn’t understand. One long arm bent back toward him, shaking a bottle of pills.

He turned away from them, taking slow, shallow breaths. If that was Nathalie, what about the other servants? The Gorilla? “You don’t have to do this!” he said, desperately pulling at the chains. “You must stop. Whatever you’re doing, it’s crazy!”

“It certainly is,” Papillon said, the pink butterfly disappearing for a moment. “It got your attention, didn’t it? And it will get Ladybug’s. And when I have both of your miraculouses…”

“Ladybug?” Adrien laughed harshly, sinking back down. “That really is crazy. You won’t defeat her, Father. She’s much more incredible than me, and she won’t lower her guard like I did.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Papillon gave him one last glance, before turning back toward the window. “You see, Ladybug will come here, straight to my den. And she will absolutely lower her guard.”

“Oh really?” Adrien asked, glaring at the floor. If he stayed angry, the urge to cry, like when he was a small child and his mother was still around, would surely be held back. “And why is that?”

“Because she will come here. To defeat me, of course. But most of all, little Chat Noir, she will come here for _you_.”

 

.:|:.

 

Without her miraculous, Marinette could have never carried Alya more than a few feet. The girl was taller than her, and on her own, Marinette had no enhanced strength. As Ladybug, the kicks and punches from a supervillain’s thrashing seemed to hurt a little less, too. Carrying Lady Wifi, strapped to her back, over the rooftops of Paris was almost easy.

It was too bad being Ladybug didn’t give her super patience.

“Ow!” she yelped, skidding to a stop a few feet short of an edge. “Would you cut it out?!”

Lady Wifi smirked, intentionally striking her heel against the back of Ladybug’s leg. She was tied too tightly to use her arms, but she was more than happy to use what was left free. “Give me back my cellphone, and then we’ll talk, Ladybug.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “No we won’t. You’ll freeze me, probably gloat for a few minutes, then grab my miraculous. How is that a choice?”

“Okay then,” Lady Wifi said, “You can either give me your miraculous, or I can keep making you miserable. That’s your choice!”

“Rrgh, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” Ladybug said, lowering the straps for a moment and settling the supervillain onto the ground. She had already purified most of her class, although two or three students were still at large somewhere. No matter where she looked, though, she still couldn’t find any sign of Miss Bustier, let alone an explanation behind what was happening.

Even more worrying, Chat Noir wasn’t answering her calls. She opened her yoyo again, checking the screen inside. No return calls, just a text. “The Agreste mansion?” She glanced at Lady Wifi, confused. “What is Papillon doing in the Agreste mansion?”

“How should I know?” Lady Wifi spat, glancing longingly at her own cellphone, held in Ladybug’s other hand. “The guy’s not a very close-and-personal type of boss.”

“Chat Noir, you should know me better than that,” Ladybug murmured. “Of course I’m going to come. Especially if you won’t answer your stupid phone-baton-thing!” Besides, Adrien hadn’t been in class. If he had gone home early, and now Papillon was there…

The red superhero turned toward Lady Wifi, sighing. “Sorry, Alya. I kept you a little longer in case I needed to use your akuma to track Papillon, but… This really isn’t fair to you.” She lifted Alya’s phone, preparing to smash it down on the roof tiles. Just a minute or two, and her friend would be purified and back to normal.

“Hey—No!” Lady Wifi said frantically. “You don’t have to do that! Stop it! Uh, um, look over there!”

“What?” Ladybug turned.

It had been a feint, a desperate move to stall for time. But as they both glanced in that direction, they saw it, suddenly: an entire swarm of black butterflies, spreading out through the air. In the distance, she could hear people screaming, followed by flashes of light as the akumas got hold of host bodies already made vulnerable by fear. Ladybug stared, paralyzed for a moment. This was utterly ridiculous! If Papillon could send out hundreds, or even thousands of butterflies at once, why hadn’t he done it before? She had already had to un-transform to refuel Tikki twice now, and she knew the kwami had to be getting exhausted. Fixing her class had taken hours of hard work. This many akumas… This could take days, if not weeks or months!

Chat Noir. She needed Chat Noir.

Lady Wifi was laughing quietly behind her. “What will you do now, Ladybug? It’s clear you’ve lost. Nothing you do can _possibly_ —“

“Hold on, Alya,” Ladybug said suddenly, hoisting her back up onto her back. She backed up three steps, then ran forward, leaping for the next rooftop. She still didn’t know what was happening, or what it had to do with the Agrestes. But it was like Chat Noir had said: if they took out Papillon, all of this would probably stop, right?

And Chat Noir would be there. No matter how dark things looked, if she and Chat Noir were working together, they would always, always find a solution.

Determined, she threw her yoyo forward, aiming for the next roof to bring her closer to the home of the Agrestes.


	3. Part 3

Gabriel barely made it to the chair before his miraculous gave out, and he de-transformed. He sank weakly onto the cold metal frame, suppressing the pain as Nooroo tumbled out onto the table. It seemed the man was not accustomed to feeding his kwami, because the purple butterfly, already exhausted, staggered off on its own to find food, not even expecting any help.

Adrien sat cross-legged on the cold floor, staring at his chains. He knew Ladybug could cross the entire city in roughly thirty minutes. If she took any longer than that, it would be stopping to help people along the way. If he was going to help her, he had only that long to figure something out. But what could he do, with his ring missing and these strong chains tethering him to the floor?

“Do you want anything?” Gabriel asked softly, from the other side of the observatory. “Food? Or maybe a blanket?”

Adrien didn’t look up.

“…You’ll forgive me in time,” Gabriel said, eyeing the butterflies ahead. For the moment, at least, the black butterflies were done assaulting him. “You feel betrayed for now, I suppose. But once I am finished, you will see that it was all necessary, and thank me.”

“You’ve hurt so many people,” Adrien said, still horrified. “It’s been a miracle that no one has died yet. That could _never_ be worth it.”

“No one has died, as far as I know,” Gabriel said. “But someone has disappeared.”

Reluctantly, Adrien looked at him.

The man had opened what looked like a hidden locket on his miraculous, and was looking at something inside. “Do you remember that day, Adrien? You didn’t see what I saw, but when you came home from school and she wasn’t there… That look on your face has haunted me ever since. I failed you on that day. I failed you both.”

“What does Mom have to do with this?” Adrien said, at a loss. It was a painful memory. Adding it onto the pain of what was currently happening wasn’t pleasant.

Gabriel glanced at him. “You are beyond clever, my son. Haven’t you already figured it out? Or are you in denial? Whoever holds both miraculouses, of creation and destruction, is unto a god.”

“Creation and destruction?” He hadn’t heard this before. Plagg had never said anything. “Mine and Ladybug’s? What do you…” Wait. “You’re trying to bring back Mom.”

Gabriel smiled.

Adrien shook his head. Cataclysm could destroy anything. And Lucky Charm could create, it was true, although Ladybug didn’t seem to have control over what was created. But they were powers with limits, and powers that had come dangerously close to being defeated before. Where had his father heard about godlike powers? Had he just not figured out the limits involved?

“You see,” Gabriel said, when Adrien didn’t respond right away, “It doesn’t _matter_ if people get hurt, or things get destroyed. Once I have both miraculouses, I can undo it all, anyways. No matter how monstrous I must become, it won’t _matter_ in the end. I’ll be able to put everything back to how it should have been, or even better! A perfect world, where no one loses the people they cherish. You’ll have your mother again, and we can all go back—“

“We can’t come back from this,” Adrien said, voice hollow. “Mom… Mom wouldn’t have wanted this. She would be horrified.”

It was as though he had slapped his father. Gabriel stared at Adrien for a long moment, not saying anything. Then, without a word, he silently got up, limped to the door, and left.

That left Adrien alone, save for the spider akuma working on the shadowy back wall. He tugged on his chains for what must have been the hundredth time, and tried not to give in to despair.

 

.:|:.

 

Nooroo looked up from the croissant he had found, as Gabriel stormed into the private study, straight toward the portrait and the safe hidden behind it. “Master, I’m going to need at least a few more minutes before I can—“

“I know, I know,” Gabriel said, distracted. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Master, are you _crying_?”

“Shut up,” the man said, flinging back the portrait and hastily inputting the code. He looked at the items inside, at a loss. The book, what he really needed, was long gone. The other things inside, mostly mere trinkets, were as good as useless to him. But underneath the strange peacock pin an elderly woman had sold him in Tibet, a simple formula was written down on parchment in strange script. The elderly woman in the crowded market had smiled enigmatically and pressed it into his hand, saying something in her native language. The translator had shrugged and said it was something about an elixir, a combination of herbs and minerals that, when mixed together and taken daily, could extend one’s life energy. Why the old woman had thought someone buying a decorative pin would want such a thing… He was beginning to understand.

The photo of his wife was in there, too, smiling serenely down at him. He paused for a moment, trying to compose himself.

“It was the boy, wasn’t it?”

Irritation flashed over his face. “Nooroo…”

Nooroo laughed, the sound humorless and harsh. “He gets to you. I can tell. You talk about how soft and full of feelings he is, but behind the façade, you’re hardly any better, are you?”

“It’s not a matter of better,” Gabriel said, taking the piece of parchment and carrying it over to a table. He turned on a lamp, adjusting his glasses. “In a perfect world, everyone would be as kind and sensitive as my son. That is the best anyone can be. It falls to men like me to make the hard choices, to be tainted with pragmatism so others can go on being so soft.”

“Geez. Are you a fashion designer, or a poet? I’m about to choke on all of the platitudes, Master.” The kwami landed on the desk, inspecting the parchment. “I don’t buy it, personally. Your soft side has held you back many, many times. It’s doing it right now, isn’t it?”

Gabriel stared at the parchment, but couldn’t make himself focus. “I’m… losing him, Nooroo. He’s beginning to hate me. Which I anticipated, and I thought I was ready for, but…” Gabriel swayed slightly, drained from all of the akumas, nearing exhaustion. “My resolve _can’t_ waiver. I’ve come too far for it to. And yet, here it is… If I am this conflicted now, what will happen later, when I have both miraculouses?”

Nooroo rolled his eyes. “Nothing will change, that’s for sure. That’s how it is with you humans. Your emotions change faster than the weather! It’s too bad kwamis can’t work with machines, or we’d be so much more efficient!”

Gabriel frowned. “You have a point.”

“I… I do?”

“Something cold, unfeeling, that focuses on a mission and nothing else but getting it accomplished,” Gabriel said, his words almost a whisper. “Something with added strength, that feels no remorse, that doesn’t get tired. That will just go on and on, relentlessly, until its goals are met or it is destroyed, whichever comes first…” He smiled, but it was pained, and full of struggle. “I’ve always thought it must be easier that way, a kind of blessing. To not be saddled with such autonomy and free thought, to never feel conflicted. It’s a sacrifice, but it’s like you said, about sacrifices…”

Nooroo took another bite of his pastry, not following.

Gabriel crossed the room, and opened a window. He stood there for a moment, with a look of utter concentration on his face, until a butterfly, summoned from the observatory, fluttered in and landed on his palm.

The kwami began to understand as he felt his powers being tugged at, accessed by his host. Such a move, when not transformed into Papillon, especially took a large surplus of life energy. For this to be necessary, it must be a situation where Gabriel had to be completely human, unprotected. There was only one situation the kwami could think of where that might be the case.

He hesitated, then decided not to stop the man. Soon, this would all be over, and his own suffering would cease.

“Grand Papillon,” Gabriel said quietly, focusing in on the butterfly. Dark energy began to coat its wings, agitating it, filling it with energy. “Your mission is to attain both miraculouses, and use them to see Gabriel Agreste’s grandest creation to fruition. Use that power, and create that world…” He paused, looking up. A picture of Adrien in his wife’s arms, both of them smiling down at him, completely at peace. It would do well, for a last image, to take with him. “…No matter you must do.”

Quickly, before he could rethink, he plunged the butterfly down, toward his own chest. His own heart would do for an object to possess, to require breaking to undo the spell. He cried out in agony as the akuma overtook him, frantically focused on the picture, on the place he so desperately wanted to return to.

Nooroo calmly finished off his croissant as the transformation happened, as pained gasps changed slowly to evil laughter. The man before him straightened, no longer seeming to feel the pain, even though his life energy was being drained just as quickly as before. “Nooroo,” he said, in a vicious voice, with no feeling, and no remorse. “Transform me!”

Nooroo actually smiled for once as he was pulled toward the butterfly pin. At this rate, he was sure of it. One way or another, his torment would be over soon. Freedom was coming!

 

.:|:.

 

Adrien was beginning to lose feeling in his legs and arms. The cold didn’t help, and sitting on the floor in a chained position for so long was making it worse. He had shifted back to his knees again, and was trying to move as much as he could, to get the blood flowing again. Sitting in the dark feeling sorry for himself wasn’t going to help anything. He had to warm up, and then he could think, hard, about how he was going to get himself out of this mess.

The door opened, and he stiffened. Instantly, the bad feelings were back. He looked toward Papillon, frowning, not sure of what to say.  
Akumas flitted down from the ceiling like before, latching onto the man and zapping energy from him. But if he felt pain, this time, the man didn’t show it. He smiled as he crossed toward the window, and opened it, looking at the city with a satisfied expression.

“…This will do,” he said, resting his cane on the floor. “Ladybug is almost here, it seems. Longer than I would have expected, but she had difficulties along the way, of course.”

Adrien drew himself up again, determined to try one last time. “Father, I—“

The man snapped around, noticing him. Adrien wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt a sinking sensation in his chest, as though he had just made a terrible mistake.

Papillon turned, walking slowly toward him. “He didn’t want you hurt. But it won’t hurt you, of course. This is the very opposite of hurt! One could say it’s even a form of protection.”

“What are you talking about?” Adrien said, backing up as far as the chains would allow. “You’re not making any sense.”

“On the contrary. For the first time, everything makes perfect sense.” Papillon crouched in front of him, taking one of his hands. From one of his pockets, the man produced a silver ring. Not the miraculous. Adrien could tell at a glance. But it was similar, and must have been the closest replica the man had been able to find. He slid the ring onto Adrien’s finger, while the boy looked on, confused.

Then he stood, and held out a hand. A single white butterfly dutifully alighted on his palm. “I don’t know why I felt resistance to doing this before,” Papillon said, closing his other hand over it. “Logically speaking, it only makes sense. You’ll make a much better distraction for Ladybug like this.”

“F-father, don’t!” Adrien scrambled back in a panic, pulling hard at the chains, even though he knew it was useless.

Laughing, Papillon released the akuma, watching it fly toward Adrien. Adrien struggled and thrashed, but barely even slowed the akuma down. It landed, despite all of his efforts, on the ring, where it sank inside and began to spread itself.

Instantly, Adrien’s entire body went rigid. Was this what everyone else had felt, every time they had been possessed? Suddenly, everything seemed heavier, darker. The emotions he had been feeling, the rage and grief and desperation, suddenly felt amplified, so much more overwhelming and insurmountable than they had been just moments ago. They were drowning him, pulling him under! He could feel himself spiraling, tumbling into a dark pit—

Pink light, above him, shining with promises of relief from the sensations. He reached for it desperately, needing _something_ to help him not feel this way anymore.

_Bladenboro._

The words were spoken from inside his own mind.

Trap. He recoiled from it, remembering, slightly, where he was. He was being akumatized. The demon would feed off of any negative feelings, and use them to gain control. He had to try to stay positive, to fend it off! Even if it was smothering him with its sheer _weight_ …

_Such hurt you feel! Such grief and rage. If only you weren’t so weak, so helpless! Fear not, I am here to help you. I will give you all of the strength and power you lack, so that nothing will ever dare to hurt you again! In return, all I ask is that you fetch a small trinket for me…_

He couldn’t shake off the pink light in front of his eyes. And he was swiftly beginning to forget things, even his own name. Adri… Ad… Blad…

Had to… stay positive… Think of things that made him happy. School. Friends.

The images assaulted him suddenly, of his friends, all akumatized, working together to burn the school. He watched from the sidelines, unable to do anything. Powerless, nothing without his miraculous.

No, he wouldn’t think about that! Mom! Think about Mom!

Being slightly younger, standing in the entry hall, his backpack slipping from his shoulders to the ground. His father was standing on the stairs, a haunted, unusually serious expression on his face. Instantly, he had known something was wrong. _”Dad? Mom was supposed to pick me up from school. Is she okay?”_

“Get out of my head,” Adrien said through gritted teeth. Or thought he said it—his voice didn’t sound completely like his own. And it was getting harder to separate the voice in his mind from his own thoughts. He leaned forward, struggling to focus on something, anything…

Ladybug. Standing on the top of a flagpole, looking down at him. She rolled her eyes at some bad pun he had made, but she was smiling, he could see it.

Ladybug looking at him with horror. His vision was hazy—he was possessed by something again—and he knew that he was being made to fight her. She backed away, fear in her eyes—

Ladybug jumping off of a building, not even looking down at him, trusting him to catch her according to plan, to throw her back up at the akumatized villain they were fighting.

Ladybug on the ground, broken, bleeding.

Ladybug smiling at him, pounding her fist against his.

Ladybug in trouble… Ladybug in his arms…

Ladybug…

…

Ladybug.

 

.:|:.

 

The yoyo circled, then snapped out, spitting out a pure white butterfly. “Bye bye, _petit papillon_ ,” Ladybug called, smiling.

They were standing on the roof of the Agreste mansion, and she watched as the butterfly simply turned and fluttered in through one of the windows below them. Sure enough… Chat Noir seemed to be on to something. And he was still not answering his phone, for whatever reason.

Alya started awake where Ladybug had left her, on a flat section of tile where she wasn’t likely to roll off. “Where am I? And what’s with…” She looked down at herself, at the black and white clothes covering her body.

“Sorry, Alya,” Ladybug said, turning toward her. “I can’t use my Lucky Charm just yet, or I’ll de-transform. But with the others, their disguises faded away on their own after a minute or two.”

“Ladybug!” Alya said, instantly brightening. “Can you tell me what happened, for the Ladyblog? Hold on, let me just…” She looked around for her phone, then stopped when she found it, smashed where it had been thrown onto the roof tiles.

“Heh, sorry about that,” Ladybug said awkwardly. “When I figure out how to put a stop to all of this, I’ll do one big Lucky Charm at the end. That should fix everything in one go!” She leaned out over the edge of the roof, examining the window below. A round one, pretty-looking. It had been left completely open.

The spots on her earrings were still bright and full of energy. She could go for a while yet before Tikki needed another break. “Alya, I’ll take you home in a minute, I swear. Can you just sit tight for a minute? I’ve got to look at something really quick.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Alya said quickly. “Take your time! Just know I’ll be waiting to interview you when you get back.”

Ladybug smiled at her. “Thanks. You’re the best!” She jumped, reaching out to grab onto the window’s edge on the way down.

The room inside the window was dark, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust. But finally, she saw the creature chained to the middle of the floor. Large, shaped vaguely like some sort of lion or jaguar, it seemed made of black smoke, with long, sharp claws and glowing red eyes. The smoke shifted around over its surface, as though not quite able to settle. It growled and bristled, rocking back and forth, running its black claws over its muzzle and the gleaming teeth within. “Ladybug,” it rasped. “Ladybug… Ladybug…”

Creepy. Ladybug hesitated. There was definitely an akuma involved, and the right thing to do would be to purify it. But if Papillon were somewhere close by, and she let herself get distracted, and waste a lot of time on this one…

The smoke churned, and drew back for a minute. The human inside sank to the floor, weak and shivering. He looked up at her feverishly, green eyes seeing right through her.

“Adrien,” Ladybug whispered.

The boy seized up, crying out in pain, as the smoke suddenly surged forward and consumed him again. His voice shifted back to the low-pitched rasp from before, and he roared, rearing back in a fury. The chains instantly snapped, and the creature lifted its arms, clawing madly at the air. “LadyBUG!”

Her choice was made for her. “You’ll pay for this, Papillon,” she promised, before throwing herself through the aperture, and at the creature inside.


	4. Part 4

The longer the battle continued on, the more confused Ladybug became. The beast was a tough one, mostly because her attacks seemed to pass right through the smoke making up its body. But the claws were solid enough, and there were multiple marks in the floor and in the metal walls to prove it, where they had scored very deep, deadly-looking lines. They dripped with some kind of strange acid, too, that seemed to burn and further damage anything it came into contact with. Ladybug could imagine what would probably happen if she let them touch her.

Luckily, the creature seemed to be holding back, for whatever reason. It defended itself and lashed out if she came close, but otherwise, it seemed to have no will to fight. It curled in on itself in the center of the room, rocking and pawing at its face. Over and over again, it said her name.

It was so strange, unlike the villains she had fought before. So this was what the dark side of Adrien’s heart looked like? Or—somehow—was the transformation not complete, yet? If so, how was he managing to fight it off?

However he was, Ladybug knew it wouldn’t last forever, and that things would get very painful for her once he finally snapped. Her yoyo was proving less than effective against the smoke. She hated to admit it, but she was running out of ideas.

“Lady… bug…” The creature looked at her, and for a moment, seemed to recognize her. Its shoulders heaved, as though trying to cry.

She couldn’t stand it, watching Adrien in pain. She sighed, then tossed her yoyo into the air. “Lucky Charm!”

Light, hearts. She reached out, and felt the object fall into her hands. They were familiar, and lightweight—a pair of gray earrings.

“Really? What am I supposed to do with these?” She glanced from them to the beast consuming Adrien, doubtful. Earrings had been useful once before, to trick an enemy into thinking she was giving up her miraculous. But this thing was barely coherent, couldn’t seem to think straight or understand anything she was saying to it. What good would trying to trick it be, if it wasn’t even intelligent enough to be deceived?

“Ring,” the monster groaned, stumbling toward her. “Riiiing…”

Well, maybe. “You want the earrings, boy?” she asked, holding them out. “You want these?”

It raised one paw toward her, shaking the claws back and forth. “Ring. Lady… bug…”

Nope. Just gibberish. She stepped back before it could swipe at her, giving up and lifting her yoyo again. She would see if she could use the earrings in a minute, but for now, they were as good as useless if she couldn’t figure them out. She twirled her yoyo in a circle, faster and faster, like a fan.  
As she had been hoping, the smoke was blown back some. The creature paused where it was, whimpering, trying to hold itself together.

“Sorry, Adrien,” she said, spinning it faster. “Just a little… further…”

The creature struggled, but since it refused to either attack or run away, the result was inevitable. Layer after layer of dark smoke peeled back, until only a small form inside remained, shrouded in dark energy.

She whipped her yoyo out and lassoed the dark form, relieved when the string tightened against something tangible. With a yank, she pulled the shadowy boy, stumbling, toward her.

“Ring!” the boy begged, still refusing to struggle or fight her.

Ladybug took his hand, noting the object around one finger, glowing purple. She had once wondered idly, during class, what its significance was. He wore it every day without fail. It must be important to him, a good target for an akuma.

“I’ve got it,” she said softly. “I don’t know how you’ve stayed even a little conscious, but… Thank you.” She pulled the ring off, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it with all of her might.

The boy yelled as his akuma sprang free. Before it got two feet off the ground, Ladybug had snatched it with her yoyo. She spun it expertly, pulling out every bit of dark corruption before snapping it open to set the akuma free--

And just like that, the windows closed, and the security shutters fell. Ladybug jerked as the room went dark, alarmed. “What—“

Adrien, weak and still wrapped up in her yoyo, fell to the ground. She unraveled him, then stepped toward the window, reaching up for the sliding glass. Unlike before, it didn’t move easily, didn’t seem to want to open. Even when she forced it, the steel shutters rested above, refusing to budge. “I don’t understand.”

“It was a trap,” Adrien groaned from behind her, sitting up. He shook his head, and pointed toward the corner, at a security camera, watching. “I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted…”

“Adrien,” Ladybug said, turning toward him. “You… You trapped me?”

“No, not me!” the boy said, looking up at her in alarm. “It was my father, Gabriel Agreste. He’s the Papillon. I… I didn’t know.” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, to make sure Bladenboro was really gone. He couldn’t remember much from being possessed, but he could guess what had probably happened. “He used me as bait,” he said, voice thick. “He knew you would come in here, and have to use your powers to stop me. Now the security system is on, we’re trapped in here, and all he has to do is wait five minutes for your miraculous to time out. Once it does… He’ll have you.”  
Ladybug’s hand flew up to her earring, where only two spots remained already, flashing urgently. “That’s not… That won’t… There’s got to be a way out of here!” She ran toward the door, tugging hard on the handle.

“Locked,” Adrien said. “Believe me, I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with something for about an hour now. This house is a very good prison when it needs to be.”

Ladybug slumped against the door, fighting panic as another dot disappeared. Tikki was already so exhausted. Her mind cast about wildly, trying to think of something, anything…

“Adrien?” she asked suddenly. She turned toward him, confused. “If you didn’t know your father was the Papillon… How do you know so much about how the miraculouses work?”

Adrien just smiled at her sadly. “I couldn’t help it. I failed you, this time. I’m sorry, my lady.”

Ladybug’s hand covered her mouth, recognition dawning. And just like that, the last spot disappeared. She tried to fight, to hold it on her for just a little longer. But it was useless. A flash of light, and her disguise dissolved. She barely caught Tikki in time.

“Marinette,” the kwami called, voice feeble. She gave off a faint warm glow that at least lit up the dismal room a little bit. Marinette knelt, cradling her, fighting tears.

Rustling metal, as Adrien got to his feet and walked over. The chains had been broken, but still dangled from his wrists where the manacles remained locked. He knelt beside her, looking at her with wonder. “It was you? All along?”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, averting her eyes. Her vision blurred, and she felt wetness escape onto her cheeks. “If you know the real me, then you’re probably disappointed.”

“Marinette, no! I could never be disappointed in you, whoever you ended up being!” He studied her, seeing, now, the bits of Ladybug hidden in her face and hair. “I’ve known you all along, then… It makes sense, now. I’m glad that it’s you.”

“I’m not,” she said, frustrated. “A better Ladybug wouldn’t have gotten herself trapped so easily.”

“Well, in your defense, I got captured first.” Adrien smiled gently at her, placing one hand on her shoulder. The other reached into his jacket. “Is camembert okay? That’s all my kwami would ever eat.”

“Camem… Oh, yes, probably,” Marinette said, scrubbing at her face and trying to focus. “Tikki prefers sweets but…”

“It’ll be fine, Marinette,” Tikki said, wobbling as she sat up. “Food is food.”

“Tikki, is it?” Adrien said. “It’s good to meet you. Even in these circumstances.” He took a steadying breath. “We probably have two or three minutes left. I’m guessing after that, someone is going to storm in here and try to grab your miraculous. My father already has mine. He’s gone crazy, talking about how he needs both of them, how they’ll give him the powers of a god…”

“Yes,” Tikki said, nibbling on the stinky cheese. “That’s true.”

“Seriously?!” Adrien settled back, stunned. “…Then… We absolutely can’t let him have it.”

Marinette shivered, the cold of the room starting to sink in. “What can we do? Tikki isn’t anywhere close to recharged. If a supervillain tries to fight me right now, while I’m like this…” She opened her hands, lifting them in a helpless gesture.

Adrien glanced at one hand. “What are those?”

“Hm? Oh…” Marinette held them out. “Earrings, from the Lucky Charm. I wasn’t able to finish up before I de-transformed, so I guess they haven’t disappeared yet. They were supposed to help me fight you, but I couldn’t think of anything, so…”

Tikki glanced up, fixating on the earrings. “I think I know why, Marinette. You’re supposed to use them right now.”

“What do you mean?” Adrien asked. “Earrings aren’t going to get her out of this room, are they?”

“The Lucky Charm creates an object for you to use to defeat an enemy,” Tikki said between bites. “Adrien wasn’t your enemy. Or at least, not the one the Lucky Charm thought you should be fighting. You’re going to use these against Papillon.”

“How?” Marinette asked, confused. “Surely he won’t think these are actually the ladybug miraculous.”

“No, no,” Tikki said. “I’ll show you. Take off your miraculous for a moment.”

Marinette did as she said, removing both earrings, and handed them to Tikki. The kwami put down the slice of cheese for a moment, grabbing the real pair of earrings, and the fake. She gave Marinette back one of the real earrings, and one of the false ones. The other halves, she kept for herself. “This is risky,” she said, “But I’ve done it before. I think I’m the only kwami who keeps her miraculous in two parts. They won’t work right without each other, and we won’t be able to access my powers. But with one half, Papillon won’t be able to access them either.”

“That’s brave,” Adrien said quietly. “There’s no guarantee that it will work, either.”

“Well, I’ve got to try something.” Tikki’s antennae were drooping, her eyes watery. “I can’t lose another partner in battle. I just can’t!”

“And you won’t,” Marinette said. “We’ll make it through this. We’ve got to.”

“Somehow…” Adrien frowned, settling on the floor beside her. “It all seems kind of hopeless, doesn’t it?”

“Only if you give up hope,” she said. “This is going to be terrible, but… It’s temporary, Adrien. I promise. We’ll find a way through.”

“How?” Adrien asked. “How do we find a way through something like this?”

“He won’t have both miraculouses, if we’re lucky,” she replied. “That’s a start.” She took a breath, looking around, eyes fixating on the door, on the earrings in her hands, on Adrien. “When they open that door… They’ll be fixated on me. They won’t pay as much attention to you. That’s when you run for it.”

“And leave you behind? Mari…”

“Yes, leave me behind. Get out of here. Try to get your miraculous back, if you can. If at least one of us is free, then there’s a chance. I believe that.”

“It should be you,” Adrien said. “I’m practically useless without you.”

“That’s not true,” Marinette said, smiling up at him. “You can do this, I know it. It _has_ to be you.”

The door rustled, as someone pushed a key into the lock. Time was up. Adrien’s hand tightened on Marinette’s shoulder as the girl hastily hid one mismatched pair in her clothing. There was so much they both wanted to say to each other, desperately. But there was no time to work with. Together, tense, they listened as the key turned, and watched the door open.

The akuma victim roared, charging in through the open door. Adrien knew, immediately, that they were dealing with the Gorilla. Now so big that he barely fit through the doorframe, covered in hulking muscles, spikes, and steel plating, he rushed them and very quickly knocked Adrien aside, grabbing and lifting Marinette in one meaty hand. Marinette gasped for air as the Gorilla wrestled a pair of earrings out of her hand, struggling to hold on to them with such thick fingers.

Adrien glanced at the open door and saw his chance. He looked back to Marinette, hesitating. Without Chat Noir, he was never going to be able to rescue her, but still, to just leave her…

Marinette met his eyes. She nodded, briefly, before being shook viciously by the Gorilla again. Adrien clenched his fists and darted for the open door, slipping out before the Gorilla could see him.

_I’ll be back,_ he mentally promised. _I swear it! I’ll come back for you, Marinette!_

 

.:|:.

 

“Sir,” hissed the spider creature that had once been Nathalie, looking up from a monitor. “The ladybug miraculous has been retrieved.”

“Excellent,” Papillon said, not looking up from the pink butterfly light in front of his eyes. “Bring it to me.”

“At once, sir,” she rasped. He heard the unsettled rustling, scraping sound as she scuttled out the door.

Papillon went back to focusing on the most pressing portions of Paris. The akumas were spreading, forming a small army of transformed humans pliant to his will. He couldn’t give as much energy or attention to most of them, and for the most part, had now mostly foregone giving them each unique, clever names. But still, it was a good start. He would have a full quarter of the city under his control by nightfall, and, once he had both of the important miraculouses under his control…

He needed to slow down the flow of life energy for a little while, though, and rest. Although he no longer felt any pain from the butterflies constantly zapping away at him, he recognized that if he gave too much, all at once, even he would keel over before his task was accomplished. Careful strategy and tactics would be required.

If not, that was, for the infinite powers he was about to receive. He allowed the pink light to fade for a moment, and opened the safe, to look inside at the perfect silver ring laying inert on a shelf. Ultimate destruction, of anything he wanted… In a way, that was more attractive than ultimate creation. He might have to spend a little time breaking down the kwami inside first, to ensure complete obedience. But once he had, with the application of a little life energy, the things he could do…!

“Sir,” Nathalie rasped.

He grinned and turned. “You have them?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, holding out two identical gray earrings.

“And the host?”

“Locked in a guest bedroom on the second floor,” Nathalie said. “The one with the barred windows.” Antoine Agreste, who had lived in the late 1800s, had experimented a little too passionately with mercury isotopes. He had seen his mind deteriorate to dangerous levels toward the end, and the barred windows remained as a reminder.

“Good,” Papillon said, holding out his hand. “You’ve done well for once, Nathalie.” His smile widened as they dropped into his hand and, responding to his energy, first one earring, then the other, turned a slight red.

He had won. He was victorious! Unable to contain his elation, he retrieved the cat miraculous, and placed it in the same hand. He focused on them, pouring all of his determination into awaking them…

…Nothing. The ring vibrated and turned black, awakening. But the earrings stayed absolutely still.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Do I have to wear them?” The butterfly miraculous simply required skin contact, but… “Ghh… Nooroo!”

He quickly forced the de-transformation, spitting Nooroo out at an opposite wall. He rounded on the kwami before it could recover, enraged, and thrust the miraculouses in its face. “Explain this to me! Nothing’s happening! What’s _wrong_ with them?!”

Nooroo glared up at him, before bending over the objects in Papillon’s palm. He examined them, then closed his eyes and laughed deeply, menacingly.

“What?” Papillon said, irritation increasing. “What is it? Tell me!”

Nooroo held up one of the earrings, smirking pityingly at Papillon. “This one’s a fake. It’s been glamored to look real, but it’s no miraculous. Did you really think it would work with only half of the ladybug miraculous?”

Papillon closed his fist over the objects, furious. He stormed back to the safe, threw them inside, and slammed the door shut. Nooroo followed curiously, still holding on to the fake earring.

Papillon stood in front of the closed safe for a few minutes, breathing hard, overcome with rage. He had been tricked! Somehow, the wretched, worthless little brat had…

Fuming, he glanced up at Nooroo, hovering near his shoulder with the fake. Behind Nooroo, the portrait of Gabriel’s missing wife swung on its hinges, smiling lovingly at everything around.

Papillon paused, then had an idea. He considered, then punched in the code to open the safe again. On one of the lower shelves, a single diamond earring rested, the only thing left from the day that she had disappeared right in front of Gabriel. Papillon retrieved it (and the half of the ladybug miraculous, just in case) before shutting the safe again, set firmly on a new plan of action. “Come, Nooroo. Let us pay the girl a little visit.”

He exited the room, re-transforming as he went.

 

The room was empty when, two minutes later, Adrien opened the dumbwaiter from inside. Grim, he dropped out, and crossed over to the safe. He punched in the numbers quickly, and pulled the door open the moment the dial pad beeped.

Plagg was waiting for him inside, holding the ring. “What took you so long, buddy? Got any camembert?”

 

.:|:.

 

Lady Wifi’s costume had long ago worn off, as far as Alya could tell. So that was a relief. What was less of a relief was that, even without the clock on her cellphone, she was pretty sure that by now, Ladybug must have been gone for at least an hour. It hurt, but she was starting to accept that Ladybug had probably forgotten about her. Could she really blame her, with all of the craziness going on?

She picked her way carefully over the rooftop, looking for a fire escape or a gutter, or _some_ way to safely get down. The lack of internet access was killing her. She couldn’t check the news, or call someone for help, or, most tragically of all, capture any video to show her loyal blog subscribers what was going on. The splintered phone waited in her pocket, wrapped carefully in a scarf, awaiting a magic miracle wave to come and fix it again. Alya briefly wondered whether a miraculous third party repair would void all warranties.

One side of the house had rows of windows, extending all the way to the ground. She gulped, looking down at the steep drop to the bottom. Theoretically, she could use the jutting brick around each window sill as handholds, and scale her way to the bottom. But if she slipped, she would be reporting next from the afterlife.

There was nothing for it, though. Ladybug was gone, akumas were pouring ominously from one of the windows on the other side of the house, she had no way to call for help, and, most importantly, Alya had never been one to be held back by fear. She cautiously eased herself past the overhang, and made herself let go.

A short drop, a near heart attack, and then her fingers grabbed the ledge of the first window. Ow. That was harder than she had thought it would be. But there was no turning back now. It was either keep going, or choose the other way down that ended with a mess on M. Agreste’s carefully tended lawn. She bit her lip, and kept descending, one step at a time. One window down. Then another. Then another, and—

“Alya?”

She nearly slipped in surprise. She clenched her fingers on the smooth brick, looking around. “Who’s there?!”

“Over here!” A hand appeared out of a window to her left, waving frantically.

Alya carefully edged sideways, cursing her bad luck before jumping for that window. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, but then closed around a metal bar. There were bars over this window! The Agrestes were officially scaring her with their freaky house.

She peered inside, frowning. “Marinette?! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know,” Marinette said, laughing awkwardly. “Came to confess to Adrien, it didn’t work out, ended up imprisoned in a room. That’s how it goes with young love!”

Alya frowned. Marinette was acting forcefully cheerful, but she could tell when her friend was upset, especially when she had been crying. “They locked you up in here? What is even going _on_?! Hold on, give me a moment. I’ll, um, find a way to get you out.”

“No, don’t!” Marinette said, suddenly frantic. “They’ll hear you, and then you’ll be captured too. Listen, Alya…” She moved closer to the bars, voice lowering to a frantic whisper. “I need a favor from you. A really, really big favor! Okay?”

“S-sure, of course, anything,” Alya said, worried. “What do you need?”

Marinette reached in one of her pockets, pulling out a pair of earrings. “I need you to take these. Please, it’s important. You have to hide them, and get them away from here. You can’t tell anyone you have them. Anyone!”

“Why?” Alya asked, adjusting her grip on the bars so she could take them from Marinette. “What’s so special about a pair of earrings?”

“Everything,” Marinette breathed. “Please, Alya, just trust me on this!”

“I will,” Alya promised. She didn’t understand what was important about them, but it was clearly important to Marinette. She slid them into the pocket of her jeans, next to her poor phone. “But… What about you? I can’t just leave you here!”

“I’ll be fine,” Marinette said, though Alya didn’t think even she believed that. “As soon as you’re safely away from here, you can call for help. But first, you must get those earrings away!”

“I don’t like this,” Alya said, shaking her head. “But… Okay. I trust you.” She reached through the bars, taking Marinette’s hand. “The _moment_ I’m out of the area, I’m calling the police. Got it?”

“I know you will,” Marinette said, wiping at her eyes. She squeezed Alya’s hand back. “You’re a good friend. The best one. Now go! Hurry, before you’re seen!”

It was unbelievably hard, for Alya to pull her hand away. But she didn’t know anything about what was happening here, and Marinette wouldn’t ask her without good reason. “Ladybug’s around here somewhere,” she said, before loosening her grip on the bars. “Hang tight. I’m sure she’ll be here to take care of things soon.”

And then she was dropping, working her way slowly back down the side of the mansion.

Marinette watched her go from her window for as long as she could. “You don’t want to go with her, Tikki?” she asked after a moment.

“I’m staying with you,” Tikki said, poking her head out of Marinette’s jacket. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything or not, but maybe you’ll have better luck with me here.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said, with a strained smile. “That means a lot.”

The door opened behind them, and Marinette whipped around suddenly, pulling her jacket closed over Tikki. She found herself staring up directly at Papillon himself, for the first time. He didn’t look pleased.

“Marinette, wasn’t it?” he said. “The girl who designed the hat. You showed such bright promise. …A pity.”

“Are you really Gabriel Agreste?” she asked, trying to look braver than she felt. For so long, he had been her idol, her inspiration, everything she had hoped to be when she was older.

“Not anymore,” he said coldly. “The miraculous, if you please. The _real_ miraculous.”

“I don’t have it anymore,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

“Hmph. Search her.”

The terrifying spider creature stepped in from behind him, two spindly arms reaching forward and grabbing her wrists. She was wrenched painfully upwards, her feet two feet off the ground, as more spider arms searched her. Somehow, the creature never managed to find Tikki. Marinette wasn’t sure how. Everything else in her pockets was quickly scattered on the floor below her.

“Tiresome,” Papillon said, stepping forward into the room. “So it seems you’ve managed to get rid of it somehow in the interim. You always were a master at being annoying, Ladybug.” He glanced over the room briefly, the little bed, the small table, the empty closet. Absolutely no other furniture. Calmly, he looked toward the barred window.

“Nathalie. Go inspect the garden below. I imagine she’s thrown it out there somewhere.”

“At once, sir,” the creature rasped, dropping Marinette roughly on the ground before skittering off.

The door was shut behind her. Marinette looked at it, considering.

“Don’t,” Papillon said coolly. “I have a miraculous, and you don’t. I’m simply stronger and faster than you are right now.” He glanced down at her, considering. “Well. Since you don’t have it anymore, you’re not very useful to me, are you?”

Marinette picked herself up, backing defensively toward a wall. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Simple enough.” He said, smirking, and opened his hands. In one hand was a pretty, though simple, diamond earring. In the other was an akuma, lazily opening and closing its wings, waiting. “I’m going to make you useful again.”

 

.:|:.

 

As the sun set over Paris, a lone boy in a black suit darted across the green field around the mansion. Behind him, at least a dozen akumatized people gave chase, some of them very, very fast. He tensed, then sprang up, grabbing onto the brick wall surrounding the property. Frantically clawing, he climbed up, feet and tail barely swinging free of grasping hands below.

At the top, he paused for a moment, turning to look behind him. His home loomed above him, dark, yet so achingly familiar. He wasn’t sure when he would be able to return.

Soon. Marinette was still inside. He would be back for her, without question. But right now, he was outnumbered, and a little over-exhausted. There was no choice but to withdraw, to rest. To figure things out, so that he could return, as soon as possible, with enough force to take on his fath—to take on Papillon and a small army of akumas.

Everything seemed dark and hopeless, the sun sinking away, leaving behind a cloudy sky the color of a spreading bruise. The akumas overhead had lessened some, but still they wheeled everywhere through the air, in every direction, searching for vulnerable targets. Soon, there would be only dark sky punctuated by the occasional glimmer of purple wings.

But even now, stars were appearing, pinpricks of hopeful light that would stay with him even in the dark. It was a long way until morning, but he would get there. He swore it. He would get there.

Reluctantly, Chat Noir turned his back on everything he had ever known. He extended his pole, and pushed. And just like that, he was off, disappearing into the streets and growing shadows. Alone.


	5. Part 5

**Two weeks later…**

 

Rose drew the scarf over her face as she stood in the doorway, trying not to cry in fear. She had stayed out far too long. But what could she do? Her family needed water, and the line had been very long.

The streets of Paris, usually so packed with people and cars, were nearly deserted in the early evening. It was true that the akumas were worse at night, but even the daytime wasn’t much better. This was becoming the new normal. If you stepped outside, you risked being akumatized, or made the victim of someone who had already been akumatized. So most people stayed indoors as much as possible, shutters drawn, doors locked. Most businesses couldn’t function under such circumstances, and in most places, the only way to get food and other goods was on a strict barter system.

Beyond that, food was running low. The military had been called in the first day that the akumas had swarmed so badly, once it was clear that Chat Noir and Ladybug weren’t coming to handle it. That had been disastrous. Now, three dozen akumatized soldiers patrolled Agreste Manor, and no one dared to come close. The military had withdrawn, and settled for setting up a quarantine barrier, as best as they could. Until they found a way to fight the akumas without being possessed by them, there was nothing else they could do. Unfortunately, Paris wasn’t going to last much longer, without food and supplies coming in from the outside.

She could see a few people in the streets ahead, still walking around in the growing twilight. They didn’t seem to be akumatized, so maybe there weren’t many butterflies in that area. Or maybe they had already been possessed once in the past, and freed. It was a quickly spreading rumor, that people that had been akumatized in the past, but purified by Ladybug, were finding that they were immune to being possessed again.

If so, Rose was incredibly jealous. Juleka had thought she would be immune too, the day after Madame Refrain had shot them, but an akuma had gotten her anyways. More and more of their classmates were learning the same lesson. Whatever Madame Refrain had hit them with, it had removed their immunity. If an akuma got Rose now, she would be Princess Fragrance again for sure.

She steeled herself, then ran out into the street. Two blocks. Two blocks and she would be home, inside, where it was safe. She hefted the heavy bag full of water bottles high on her small shoulders, trying not to let them slow her down too much.

It was going well, until she ducked into the alley, trying to take a shortcut. Trash pickup had fallen by the wayside in the past two weeks, and litter crowded the ground anywhere anyone tried to walk. In her panic, she didn’t see the rubber tire until it was too late. She tripped and went sprawling.

Water bottles scattered everywhere. “No, come back!” she called, on the verge of tears. Her family needed that water! They didn’t have much more to trade if she lost any of it. She grabbed the bag and began fumbling around, grabbing one bottle at a time. A couple of them had burst open, and she nearly wept as she saw them spilling out onto the dirty ground.

She reached out for the next bottle, only to recoil as a shadow fell over it. She looked up, whimpering, at the dozens of butterflies descending from above, drawn to her grief and desperation. Oh no… Oh no!

A clicking sound. From behind Rose, a thick white foam was shot at the akumas, scattering them in every direction. A few of them wheeled around for a second pass, stubbornly aiming for her—only to have the fire extinguisher itself thrown at them. Rose watched it all, paralyzed and confused, only to shriek when something grabbed her from the shadows. She was lifted onto the thing’s back, and then they were running, racing through twisting streets.

“Chat Noir?” she asked, holding onto his neck for dear life. “You’re alive? I’d heard that you were killed!”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said, grinning over his shoulder at her. “Haven’t you heard that cats have nine lives?”

“Uh-oh—look out!” She pointed frantically ahead. Three akumatized people were wandering through the alley ahead, near zombie-like, their black and purple costumes generic and covering their entire bodies. If they caught them…!

“No fear, _mademoiselle_ ,” Chat Noir said, whipping out his baton. “They’re about to get a claw-ful headache.”

He jumped at the last moment, Rose still on his back, just as the villains were beginning to turn around and notice them. With expert coordination, he delivered a roundhouse kick to one head, a turning punch to another, and rapped the third with his metal baton. He landed in a crouch, then extended his pole down into the earth. They practically pole-vaulted away from the area, Rose’s scream trailing behind them.

Juleka loved roller coasters. Juleka would have loved this. Rose did not. She buried her head in Chat Noir’s back, keeping a death grip on him, and praying, praying…

He skidded to a stop. “Here we are.”

“Huh?” Rose asked, daring to open one eye.

“Home sweet home,” Chat Noir said, bending his knees slightly so that she could get off more easily. “This is where you live, isn’t it?”

“Well… Yes,” Rose said, blinking at him. “But how did you know?”

“A cat’s intuition,” he said, grinning and saluting with two fingers. “It’s getting darker. You should go ahead and get inside.”

“You saved me,” Rose breathed, as her feet touched the ground. “Thank you. Thank you so much. But…” Her lip quivered, and just like that, she was crying,   
burying her face in her hands.

“Hey, hey! It’s alright,” Chat Noir said, suddenly awkward. “You’re safe now. I promise!”

“It’s just that, all that water,” she said, between sobs. “We _needed_ it! I messed up, so badly, and now we won’t have any at all…”

“Ah, I see,” Chat Noir said, remembering, suddenly, the scattered water bottles. He smiled at her, patting her shoulder. “It’s okay, _mademoiselle_ , don’t cry! You go ahead and get inside. I’ll go fetch your water and bring it to you!”

“Are you sure?” Rose asked, sniffing and looking up. “But, it’s completely after dark! What if the akumas…?”

“Never mind about the akumas,” Chat Noir said cheerfully. “I’ll be fine! And so will you.”

She rubbed at her eyes, a watery smile on her face. “Thank you, Chat Noir. I mean it.”

“No problem at all,” he said, with a flourished bow. “My pleasure. Chin up, okay? Papillon won’t last forever. Things are about to get better, I’ll see to it!”

“I believe you,” Rose said, running for the door. “Good luck! Thank you!”

He waited until she was safely indoors before he nodded and jumped for the rooftops, headed back to collect the water bottles.

 

.:|:.

 

Nino looked both ways before darting out of the alley, toward the building on the other side of the street. Normally the restaurant would be brightly lit from inside and outside, a beacon in the streets. Now all external lights were switched off, and the large glass windows had been boarded up. He skirted around it and toward the back, running up the fire escape as quickly as he could. The moment he reached the top, he shifted the bundle in his arms and pounded on the door.

“No trades after dark!” a voice called from inside.

“Alya, it’s me! Open up!”

A pause, and then the click and slam of the different locks being opened from inside. The door opened slightly, an arm snaked out and grabbed him, and he was pulled inside.

Alya shut the door and began re-fastening the locks, with the intense look on her face that suggested she had been blogging moments before he knocked. “Were you followed? Did you get it?”

“No, and yes,” Nino said, opening the bundle. Inside of a plastic bag wrapped in a towel, computer parts rustled together in the bag. “They’re almost giving these away now. No one else wants them.”

“Ugh, they didn’t even try to separate them,” Alya said, reaching for the bag. “That’s okay. It looks like everything’s here. Thanks, Nino. Mom left pasta for you on the stove.”

“No problem, he said, collapsing onto her plush couch. He was still slightly out of breath from the run. “Are you sure I shouldn’t be trading for something else, though? Something more important?”

“Hey, these are important!” Alya said.

“I know, I know, without blogging, what’s even the point of living. It’s just, with the food shortages….”

“We’ll be fine,” Alya said, carrying the parts over to a table she had set up in the living room, where her own desktop lay on its side, chassis open with wires spilling out of it. “Mom says the restaurant had enough food stored in it to keep us going for a month or two, if we’re careful. Remember?”

And Alya’s family lived in a small, though tastefully decorated, flat directly on top of the restaurant. They could go downstairs to get food, even in the middle of the night, and not have to worry about akumas very much. It was a comfortable living situation, compared to the rest of the city. “I remember,” Nino said. “Thank you, again, for letting me stay with you.”

“It was the least we could do,” Alya said, looking directly at him, her eyes softening. “You’re welcome here any time. For as long as you like.”

She felt sorry for him, he knew. He had come home, that very first day, to find everyone in his own house akumatized. It had been horrific, and without Ladybug and Chat Noir to rely on, he had no hope of them turning back any time soon, if ever. For the first day or two after Alya had found him, wandering the streets in a daze, he had been pretty useless, dealing with the grief. But Alya and her mother had been so kind, sheltering and feeding him, not asking anything in return. He was determined to make it up to them.

“What’s new with the news today?” he asked, changing the subject. “Anything interesting?”

“Mostly more of the same,” Alya said, taking a screwdriver to her desktop tower. “Military still won’t do anything, most of the police are in hiding. Nothing is getting better, so I’m over here, with cabin fever, theorizing like crazy as though that will actually help anything.”

“Sorry,” Nino said, getting up to join her. He knew a little bit about computers, from having to troubleshoot DJ equipment from time to time, but Alya was the real master. He would hold things for her while she worked. “But Ladyblog traffic is still higher than ever, right? It means something to people, what you’re doing. Gives them something to focus on, to hope for.”

“I guess,” Alya said. “It would help if we could just getting a sighting, or even a clue. We need heroes more than ever, and they’ve both disappeared. I can only toss out theories about what’s going on for so long before it becomes obvious that they’re never coming back.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he said, handing her a zip tie. “We don’t know that. And negativity just attracts akumas, right?”

“Yeah, for me, at least,” Alya said, bundling wires together before wrapping the tie around them. “Are they still ignoring you?”

Nino frowned. “Yes.” Not that it was a bad thing, exactly. There were many instances where the akumas might have easily had him, if they had tried. But for the most part, they avoided him even when he was close. Only him, no one else. Even though he had been shot by Madame Refrain too. It troubled him.

“Hmm,” Alya said. Nino knew that sound. In another minute, she would have another theory about why it was happening.

“What about the classmates?” Nino asked. “Still checking in?”

Alya waved her screwdriver at a corkboard set up in the corner, with pictures of the members of their class carefully pinned up in order of seating arrangement. Some of them had purple paper butterflies taped to them, showing that they had fallen victim. A couple had red question marks, meaning they weren’t checking in online. Most of them had green check marks, for all safe. Marinette’s picture had a note at the bottom, “Not seen since Agreste mansion”.

Adrien’s smiling face also had a note. “No confirmed location, possibly a traitor.” Alya’s handwriting, not his. The idea still made Nino’s stomach churn. He couldn’t, just couldn’t, believe that of his best friend.

“Anyways,” Alya said, “I’ve been thinking it out again.” She pointed to another wall. When Nino had visited before everything went downhill, it had been covered, every inch of it, in Ladybug. Apparently in the past it had been pictures of other superheroes. Alya had always been a little obsessed. But now an entire new layer had sprung up of pictures, newspaper clippings, sticky notes, and mementos related to the red and black superhero. For the past two weeks, Alya had begun adding a third layer, related to the current situation. Blurry, pixelated sightings of Papillon. Rumors about where Ladybug had been. Eyewitness testimony from friends of friends of friends, who had definitely seen Chat Noir on some distant rooftop. A stained bit of red cloth, from someone who had claimed to find a body. Etc, etc, etc. So many hints led to an overly complicated puzzle that no one could solve.

Alya sure was trying her hardest, though. “I brought the Dupain-Chengs some flour today, since they were running out. They’re still heartbroken that she’s missing, but… Anyways, they let me look through her room again. And it turns out she kept a diary. The box is locked, but if you have even a basic screwdriver…” She smiled and shook her head, amused, even now, by her friend’s tendency toward ditziness. She loved her for it, even so. “There’s no mistaking it, now. Marinette was Ladybug, all along.”

“I see,” Nino said. They had discussed the possibility, with increasing amounts of seriousness, over the past few days. “Are you mad?”

“Why? Because she didn’t tell me?” Alya laughed. “Hardly! Everyone knows that’s the first rule of being a superhero! I would have found out eventually, though. I had some really good clues, there, toward the end!”

Nino looked down at a busted hard drive, frowning. “Then, those earrings she gave you…”

“It’s a long-standing theory, on the Ladyblog,” Alya said, “about how she might get her powers from those. It’s what all the supervillains used to grab at first. It… It would explain why we haven’t seen Ladybug recently, right?” She lifted the outer panel, re-attaching it to the tower chassis, and began the process of putting the screws back into their places. “Which means I’ve got the secret to Ladybug locked in the secret compartment in my closet. And Marinette is nowhere to be found.”

“Alya.” Nino grabbed her hand, focused. “This is incredible! Ladybug is the only one who can stop Papillon! You said so yourself! If you put the earrings on, could you _become_ Ladybug?”

“Me?” Alya asked, startled. The idea had honestly, somehow, never even occurred to her. “But, those are Marinette’s earrings! I’m no hero, and… My ears aren’t even pierced!”

“I’m serious,” Nino said. “We should try, at the very least!”

Alya considered for a moment, then shook her head. She turned back to her screwdriver. “Marinette made me promise to keep them hidden. And it’s still a secret, okay? Just you and I. For all I know, putting them on might alert Papillon to their location. I think that happened in a comic once. Besides…” She grunted for a moment, struggling to turn a screw that had become stripped. “Before we do anything, we need a plan of attack. Ladybug already lost to Papillon once, it seems like, and that was an experienced Ladybug. And there’s the akuma guards surrounding the place, and the security system, and finding a way to not get possessed going in… There’s a lot of details to work out, before anyone can stop Papillon! Just having something that may or may not be a magic item won’t, on its own, be enough.”

“Then we’ll work through it,” Nino said, deep in thought. At the very least, he couldn’t imagine how they would ever get close to Papillon without a superhero’s powers on their side. But… “We’ve got to come up with something. Paris won’t last much longer.”

“And we will,” Alya promised. “I’ve got one more wall in my room with nothing on it. We can sketch out a plan tonight. But first…” She lifted the tower, setting it back upright. “If those parts you found are good, and this thing turns on, I promised you a movie. Another rom-com?”

He smiled, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Nah, an action movie this time. I want to watch something you’ll like tonight.”

 

.:|:.

 

Through the green tinge of feline night vision, Chat Noir watched Rose’s house from a rooftop across the street. He dropped a small pile of pebbles on the tile next to him, judging size, distance, velocity. In quick succession, he threw three of them at Rose’s front door, hoping it sounded enough like knocking.

A pause, then the door cracked open. After a second, an older woman who looked very much like Rose poked her head out and saw the pile of water bottles that had been stacked up on the welcome mat. Even in the dark and at a distance, Chat Noir could see the relieved smile on her face.

He smiled softly to himself, for a moment. But he knew as soon as he turned around, he would see the skies full of akumas, and be unable to hold onto the warm feelings. There was no good excuse to stall and avoid the situation, though. He sighed and stood up, stretching before hopping down to the street below.

He had run into the three akumatized goons again, in the process of retrieving the water. Now, he had three possessed objects to add to his collection: a scarf, a pair of glasses, a child’s teddy bear. He carried the pulsing items with him through a small maze of streets, ones he was quickly becoming very familiar with.

At the start of one particular alley, he began counting dumpsters. Un. Deux. Trois. Quatre. And there, Dumpster Cinq, with its little graffiti of a cartoon bunny sticking its tongue out. It was pulled away from the wall juuuuust enough, and he had been able to set up layers of cardboard and newspaper behind it, to keep him warm at night.

To think he had once thought he smelled bad because of carrying around camembert. Poor Plagg’s fancy cheese days were behind him now that they no longer lived in a mansion, but at least he didn’t have to worry about Adrien smelling too pleasant for a change.

With a little crouching and tugging, he was able to pull the large glass pickle jar free from the hiding place. Crowded tightly inside, exactly twenty-seven akumas fluttered angrily at him, striking against the glass. This next part was simple. Shake the jar, hard, until they were all too stunned to fly out for a second. Tear open a possessed object, catch the akuma before it could escape. Open the jar, and quickly—quickly!—push the akuma inside and then slam the lid back on. Rinse, repeat.

Without Ladybug, there was absolutely no way to purify them all. And their hosts, while regaining control over themselves, were still technically possessed, prone to fits of anger, paranoia, or depression. He couldn’t do anything about that. He was _helpless_ to undo that, without Ladybug’s yoyo. But if he kept them in here, at least they couldn’t multiply or get back to their hosts. It was a Band-Aid solution, but it was all he had.

He barely finished up before he ran out of energy. He slammed the lid down on the last akuma just seconds before he turned back into Adrien, and barely managed to screw it on tightly before he collapsed. So full… They were going to need a new, bigger jar soon.

Plagg landed in a puddle, and immediately hissed, unhappy at getting wet. He rolled out of it, and shook himself off, irritably wiping at the mud. “What was that, three days this time, as Chat Noir? This is extreme, even for you, Adrien. Take more breaks, for cheese sake!”

“I can’t help it,” Adrien said, laying limply on the ground, staring dully up at the sky. “Adrien can’t do anything to help out here. Chat Noir can. And there’s always, _always_ one more person who needs help.”

“And what about me?” Plagg said, with a dramatic swoon. “Days in a row, trapped in that ring, not a crumb of camembert in sight! How can you be so cruel?!”

Weary, Adrien reached in his bag, then rolled an apple toward Plagg. “Here. I found this earlier.”

“And this!” Plagg whined. “You come to me, with this, this--!”

“Fruit?”

“Yes! Oh, the inhumanity of it all.” The little kwami pulled himself up on top of the apple, sniffing. “You do realize that I can’t keep you going forever, right? Listen to me. I am usually the _last_ person to nag, but I really mean this. If you don’t cut it out with this full-time Chat Noir business, sooner or later, you _are_ going to collapse. And then who will rescue that pretty girlfriend of yours?”

“I might not be able to rescue her anyways,” Adrien said, rolling weakly onto his side. “Look at me. I’m pathetic. I saved nine people today, but compared to the huge amount that I couldn’t do anything for… I’m failing, out here. It should have been Marinette to escape, not me.”

“Is that so?” Plagg glanced at the pickle jar, the akumas flapping so anxiously within. “I still don’t know that I like this jar idea of yours. For one thing, there’s the part where any human that accidentally touches it will instantly get possessed by—what is it, thirty-five akumas, all at once?”

“Just thirty,” Adrien murmured, on the verge of sleep. “Only that many… Needs to be more…”

Plagg rolled his eyes, and floated toward Adrien. He couldn’t just fall asleep out here in the open! At the very least, he needed to get back in to the make-shift bed behind the dumpster, like a responsible person. “For another,” he said, tugging on Adrien’s hand. “You keep it in there with you, while you sleep during the day. Practically skin-contact. I think it’s starting to affect you, partner! I’ve noticed it. Your disposition gets more and more negative the longer this goes—“

A scream, terrified.

Adrien started up, instantly awake. “Plagg, trans—“

“Oh no, Mister,” Plagg said, crossing his arms. “I haven’t even begun to refuel yet. And furthermore, you’re dangerously exhausted. You’re going to sit this one out, lay down in the trash, and _sleep!_ ”

Adrien ignored him, rolling to his feet. Before Plagg could stop him, he was running in the direction of the scream. The cat kwami gave a growl of utter frustration, picked up his apple, and reluctantly followed.

The scream had been close. And, just a few seconds later, the person screamed again, weaker, but no less terrified. Adrien followed the awful noises, sticking close to shadows and walls. Around the corner, in the flickering light of a nearly dead streetlamp, he found them.

A man in a Jagged Stone t-shirt was on the ground, breathing heavily, crying out. Standing over him, a girl in a skin-tight black and silver suit pointed a folded black umbrella at his chest. As it touched the man, energy crackled, the umbrella seemingly pulling something out of him. Before Adrien’s eyes, the man began to rapidly age, skin wrinkling and sagging, hair turning white, frame becoming gaunt and half-starved. Screaming, all the while.

She stopped when the umbrella began to glow white. She lifted it up, examining it from the holes of her domino mask, then nodded. Without another glance at her victim, she turned and jumped, fifteen feet into the air, onto the nearest rooftop. She bounded again, and was gone.

Adrien ran to check on the man. Still breathing, still alive. But very, very old. He bent over the unconscious figure, unsure, right away, of what to do. He needed to get the man to a safe place. He also needed, desperately, to follow the girl who had done this to him. He didn’t have enough energy to do either.

The light pressure of Plagg’s tiny paw on his shoulder. Sympathy. Just like that, Adrien’s defenses collapsed, and he was shivering, struggling to breathe. He looked up at the sky, the akumas overhead, the stars, struggling to be seen from behind clouds and light pollution.

“Marinette,” he whispered.


	6. Part 6

The night was a cold, misty one. As a result, by the time morning arrived, thick fog carpeted the ground. Visibility was low, so, theoretically, people would be safer from akumas than normal. Even so, Adrien passed hardly anyone on his way uptown. Considering what he was doing, maybe that was for the best.

His school was completely closed down and locked up. That was no surprise. He was getting into dangerous territory now, in the no-man’s-land close to Papillon. Both akumas and their hosts would be more plentiful, the further he went in.

He located a maintenance ladder around the back of the school, one he had climbed often before. It was a little more laborious without superpowers, but even so, he was soon on the roof. He found a good vantage point, one that gave him a wide field of vision while still keeping him reasonably covered. Then he settled in for the long haul. Someone had thrown away a perfectly good pair of binoculars. Sure, the lens in the right eye was completely busted, but the left one still let him see many blocks into the difference.

Around noon, as the fog was thinning out, Plagg poked his head out of Adrien’s backpack and yawned. “You really don’t ever slow down, do you?” he asked.

“I slept for a whole six hours last night,” Adrien said, still scanning the streets. “What more do you want from me?”

Plagg floated out toward Adrien’s shoulder, rubbing his paws over his face and whiskers. “What are you even doing? Bird watching?”

“Ladybug watching,” Adrien replied. “Or… Something like a ladybug. I haven’t quite figured out what her powers are, now.”

“We saw it last night, didn’t we?” Plagg asked sleepily, stretching slowly. “Scary umbrella, it touches you, you wither. Do you think there’s more to it than that?”

Adrien lowered his binoculars, fishing his phone out of his pocket. A couple of taps brought up Alya’s blog, updated frequently with photographs sent in from all over Paris. He fullscreened a particularly blurry one, of a familiar pigtailed girl standing on a rooftop, wearing a black and silver costume with a pattern that didn’t quite match up with what they had seen the night before. She held a giant pair of scissors, and had what appeared to be a two-foot-long spool of thread attached to her back.

“Hm, a sewing theme!” Plagg said, zooming in on the girl’s face. “That matches Marinette, I suppose.”

“It’s definitely no umbrella,” Adrien said, frowning as he lifted the binoculars again. “I don’t know, maybe she only comes out at night. Still, if she’s out there, I’m determined to find her.”

“Then you might as well turn into Chat Noir,” Plagg said, holding out Adrien’s phone. “You’ll find her faster that way.”

“Is that okay?” Adrien asked. “You don’t need more time to recover?”

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t make it so long, this time,” Plagg said. “Besides, if I don’t, you’ll probably go trying to jump rooftops after her anyways, without any superpowers to keep you from tumbling off.”

“Probably. Thank you, Plagg,” he said, taking his phone. He took a breath, then held out his ring. “Transform me!”

Four seconds later, he was speed-running deeper into Papillon’s territory, bouncing fearlessly off of walls and springing from roofs. It was always incredible how, as Chat Noir, any tiredness or aches seemed to melt away. He had boundless energy, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the enhanced strength and the feeling of wind rushing around him.

This had been fun, once. He had almost forgotten.

He was perhaps four blocks from his former home when his instincts tightened. He dropped into a roll suddenly, and ended in a crouch, in the shadows cast by a chimney. Almost immediately, his eyes caught up, and he saw her.

The girl had found a new victim. This time, her uniform was black with silver spots, almost a monochrome version of the Ladybug outfit. She had wrapped a woman in her yoyo, and was watching as the weapon slowly filled up with dim white energy.

Chat Noir hesitated. The woman seemed to be unconscious, but still, this supervillain was hurting her, draining her of life. He was going to have to fight the girl. He shifted anxiously, trying to figure out the best angle of attack, the most painless way he could disarm her. Which object held the akuma? The yoyo? Or… The _earrings._

A loud yelp behind him. He jerked, and turned. Behind him, the scissor-wielding Marinette from the blog picture was laid out flat, her weapon knocked to the side. She groaned, rubbing a welt on her head.

“Wh-- _Two_ Marinettes?!” he asked, glancing back at the street, then at the one behind him again. “Which one is—“

The one that had tried to ambush him growled and reached down. Now that she was up close and in person, Chat Noir could see the belt she wore, full of various craft supplies. A long needle hung at her side like a sword, threaded from the spool on her back, and she grabbed it and threw it at him suddenly.

He sidestepped, and extended his pole, catapulting into the air. As his somersault turned over, he caught a glimpse of the Marinette on the ground. She was looking up now, apparently noticing him. He could see her pulling back her yoyo in preparation to attack.

Well, that was all he needed to see. He landed on a balcony one story lower, and immediately pushed off, springing toward a different rooftop. How many _were_ there? He would find out, but this wasn’t the time or place, where more could be waiting to catch him off-guard. He began sprinting, planning to put distance between them for now, then circle back later and track them further.

A question tugged at his mind, though—what had hit arts-and-crafts Marinette before she could attack him? He glanced back for a second, uncertain.

A flash of orange. Fox ears, just for a moment, before they disappeared around the side of a stairwell.

More confused than ever, he leaned forward, putting his back into the sprint.

 

.:|:.

 

Nino shivered as he climbed the stairs to exit the subway, rubbing his hands together. The air was getting colder. They had plenty of fall ahead, but it had begun the downward slide, toward bitter cold. In another week or two, he wouldn’t be surprised to see snow.

He reached up to lower his headphones to his neck, letting the loud, frenetic music fade to a distant roar. He crossed an eerily quiet avenue, then sat at a park bench on the other side, buried in his phone. He hoped the pictures he had taken for Alya were good enough quality. She had wanted to come take them herself, but he had convinced her to stay home. He was immune to akumas, she wasn’t, simple as that. He wasn’t going to lose anyone else to them.  
Ten minute into reviewing the pictures, something moved in the corner of his eye. Nino turned, confused. What parent was letting their child play out here with the city on lockdown?!

There was no child, or even an adult. But he could see them clearly now, more of them. Drifting bubbles, in the corner of his vision.

He stood suddenly, unsettled. This was fine. He had spent an hour in the subway system, breathing in all kinds of strange mold and mildew and industrial chemicals. A little fresh air, and he would be fine! He began walking again, headed toward the Arc de Triomphe, the next place Alya wanted pictures from.

The bubbles didn’t go away. A block later, when a bubble drifted directly in front of him, he swerved to avoid it. Now, if he turned his head, he could look directly at them, and they didn’t disappear. Little ones, drifting lazily, all several feet away from him.

He frowned and chose a different route to the Arc, one where the air was clear. This time, he walked a little faster. He was going to have to ask Mme. Cesaire about the chicken she had prepared the night before. She had insisted it was still good, but now…

He laughed in unnerved frustration when a bubble appeared on a streetsign ahead. This was truly getting ridiculous. He broke into a run, forgetting about the Arc de Triomphe, now just determined to get back to Alya’s house, as quickly as possible.

As his stress level rose, so did the amount of bubbles. They were everywhere, now, everywhere he turned, everywhere he looked. More of them, and bigger ones. They were drifting closer to him, too, crowding in, almost seeming to _chase_ him.

No, Nino, that was crazy talk. He darted sideways, suddenly, down a different street. He zigzagged, ducking a bubble half as big as he was, before skidding forward.

Mistake, mistake! Dead-end, the only exit ahead blocked off by a twelve-foot wrought-iron fence, chained close. He stopped in front of it, breathing ragged, and wheeled around.

Bubbles. On every side. A _lot_ of them, so thick that they were beginning to converge, almost wall-like. They were definitely closing in, moving slowly but unmistakeably toward him, in a tight ring. He threw his bag at them, but they did not pop, simply surrounded his bag on all sides and buoyed it up into the air, higher and higher.

He turned desperately, panicking. No way out. He was going to die, in the _stupidest_ way imaginable, and it didn’t even make any sense! He backed up as the ring’s diameter constricted to four feet, then two feet, then--!

The bubbles surged toward him. Terrified, he ducked down into a ball, arms over his head and eyes tightly shut. His headphones, pushed up to his ears by his shoulders, blared loud music, blocking out all other noise.

Nothing. Nothing, nothing. He waited, tense, for the end. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he opened an eye.

Not a single bubble. Just empty air, cold and full of gusts. His bag lay in the dirt exactly where he had thrown it. It hadn’t been real, any of it.

 

.:|:.

 

Monochrome-Ladybug Marinette grunted as she was thrown backward, into a brick wall. She slumped for a moment, stunned, then straightened as a silver pole extended itself directly in her face.

“Drop. The. Yoyo.” Chat Noir’s eyes were narrowed, completely serious.

She looked back and him, smiled, and shrugged. The yoyo clattered to the floor. “Knock yourself out, Kitty. I have a telepathic connection directly to Papillon, and you’re right in his neighborhood. If you think others won’t be headed directly to our location soon, you’re dreaming.”

“Marinette,” he said, tension in his voice. “It’s me. It’s Adrien. Can you remember?”

“I remember what a loser you are,” she said, before kicking out suddenly.

Chat Noir spun the staff quickly, hooking the back end under her knee and yanking up. She was on her back in seconds, with him on top, pinning her down.

She laughed in his face. “We’ve fought a few times before. I beat you every time, didn’t I?”

“Usually while I was brainwashed by one villain or another,” he said, reaching for her right earring. “Believe me. Right now, I’m _very_ focused.”

The girl scoffed, not trying to resist. She didn’t seem worried. Sure enough, when he had them both in his hands, and closed his fist, no akumas flew out of the crushed jewelry. They did crumble, dissolving in his palm into a fine black powder. But not a single wing showed itself.

“The yoyo, then,” he said, getting off of her. She sat up, but again watched calmly as he walked toward the black and silver weapon and picked it up. “What was it that you were doing with this, even?” he asked, noting the strange white shine. “Is that your power? You make people age?”

“Not age,” she said coolly. “I just drain their life energy, and store it like a battery. If you break that, those people’s suffering will just go completely to waste, by the way.”

“And you change appearance,” he said. “And can make copies of yourself somehow.” He caught her moving in the corner of his eye, and snapped the pole back in her direction without fully looking at her. “Right? An umbrella one, a Ladybug one, a crafts one. Probably others.”

“Gee!” she said, mocking. “What could all of those things have in common? Poor thing, cats just aren’t the smartest creatures out there.”

“You sound like Chloe,” he remarked. “You’re not yourself, Marinette. You know that you’re not.”

“No, I’m _better!_ ” She lifted her hand, and the yoyo he was holding moved on its own, sending a string flying toward her. She caught it, and yanked, pulling him off-balance. Before he could react, she tripped him, and he fell. He twisted, feeling strings wrapping around his legs and shoulders.

Her eyes were on his miraculous. She was leaning close, bending down for it.

“Cataclysm!” he yelled. With all of his strength, he swiped his claw, snapping through the string and the yoyo in an arc—

And accidentally went too far.

The yoyo dissolved into ashes instantly, that scattered on the ground and then evaporated in a purple mist. Still no akuma. His heart hammering, he looked up from them to the girl, already knowing he had stupidly _majorly_ messed up.

She stared at him in shock. She looked down at her shoulder, where the cataclysm had torn right through it. No blood, just unnatural ashes and purple mist. She touched it, then suddenly laughed.

“Marinette,” Chat Noir said, horrified. He reached for her, mind racing for a way to fix this, to undo whatever the Cataclysm had done to her.

“Good _job_ , Chat Noir!” she said, grinning, and mockingly bumped her fist against his hand. “You’ve figured out a secret, a little ace in the hole. Just one problem, though! If you try that on the _real_ Marinette, she’ll definitely die.”

He blinked at her, withdrawing his hand. “You’re not…?”

“Like I said, about cats,” she said, rolling her eyes. More of her was dissolving now, the cut spreading down through her abdomen. She paid it no mind, as though simply mildly inconvenienced. “You were right before. There’s a lot of us, a _lot_. And only one of us is real. But good luck finding the real one!” She batted her eyes at him, with sardonic pity. “You go on and on, about how much you love her, you’d die for her, and all of that. All sugary sweet doomed romance. But you don’t really love her. You barely even know her!”

“I know enough,” he said, leaning on his pole. That had genuinely scared him. “I think I know how this goes. You’re all aspects of her personality, or something like that. I have to accept all of you, or… Something, something, anime ending.”

She fell to her knees, now half ash and mist, laughing again. “Not her personality! Or did you forget, you were connected to Papillon’s mind yourself not so long ago. This?” She waved a hand at herself, dissolving rapidly. “And all the other Marinettes you’re seeing? Those having nothing to do with what Marinette actually is. They’re _your_ perceptions of her. This is all you know, about your so-called love, right here!”

She looked up at him, as her face began to fall apart, laughter becoming more unhinged. “Well, Adrien? This is what you think you’re fighting for! Do you like what you see?!”

The last of her evaporated, just purple smoke, and the smell of burning.

 

.:|:.

 

Nino didn’t want to go home until he was completely sure that he wasn’t going crazy. He walked through the park for hours, working through playlist after playlist, trying to get a grip on himself. No more bubbles appeared.

A flock of akumas had gathered to rest on the sidewalk, fanning their fragile wings to stir up heat. As Nino approached, they scattered, no different than pigeons. He almost didn’t notice them anymore, when he was alone like this. Still, he couldn’t stay in the park forever, now that it was dark. Akumas might not care much about him, but if a supervillain found him, he couldn’t be so sure he would be left alone.

He turned up an especially loud song, and began the long walk home. Gardens and flowers gave way to paved roads and abandoned cars, then businesses, then rows of apartments. Then alleys overflowing with trash, as he approached the shortcut that would shave twenty minutes off of his walk. He kept his head down, hands in his pockets, trying to plan out his excuses to Alya for not getting all of the right pictures. It was cold, his breath streaming white in front of him.

“This one never got picked up. You want to take it home?”

Human voices. On reflex, he shut his music off and ducked against a wall, listening.

“You kidding? I work here. I have to eat that stuff every day.”

“Well, I don’t want it. I hate onions.”

“Trash it is, then.”

Nino frowned. People were idiots. The entire city only had a limited amount of food stored, and they were about to waste some of it! He poked his head around the corner to glare down the alley.

A harried-looking waitress stepped out of the open door, dropped a pizza box in a trash bin, then quickly ducked back inside. The back door of the restaurant slammed shut. Nino stared at it in disbelief, shaking his head. He started to turn away and continue his trek. But then he saw something move.

After the incident earlier that day, he was sensitive to things moving in the corner of his vision. He froze again. From behind a dumpster a little further down the alley, a blonde-haired boy emerged. He looked around cautiously, arms wrapped around himself and shivering. He was still wearing summer clothes, light and short-sleeved, even though lately the nights had frequently dropped below freezing.

After a moment, the boy moved toward the trashbin, removing the lid. Eagerly, he leaned inside, then straightened up a moment later with the pizza box. He turned back toward the dumpster—

“Adrien!” Nino called, stepping out into full view.

“Wha—Oh, Nino!” Adrien, startled, nearly dropped the pizza altogether. He fumbled with it, turning to face Nino and trying to hide it behind his back, an embarrassed smile on his face. “Imagine seeing _you_ here!”

“What are you doing here, man?” Nino said, walking toward him. “You live on the streets now? No one’s seen you in weeks!”

“No, no, I don’t _live_ here!” Adrien said, blushing. “I was just, uh, taking a walk! You know, ah… Stargazing…”

Nino looked up at the cloudy sky. He looked pointedly at the dumpster, where Adrien’s backpack was poking out.

Adrien sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay. I live here.”

“Buddy…” Nino said.

“Well, you know by now,” Adrien said, frustrated. “Everyone knows. I can’t exactly go _home_ , and…” 

“So you’ve been living in an alley? All this time?”

Adrien averted his eyes. “Yeah. More or less….”

Nino smiled. “Come on. Bring the pie with you. Alya likes onions. We’ll just, uh, not tell her where we found it.”

“Alya?” Adrien asked, frowning.

“Her place is, oh, maybe ten minutes from here,” Nino said. “They’ve only got one guest cot, but I’ll let you have it. I don’t mind taking the couch.”

“Nino…” Adrien shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say, ‘I bought this at a restaurant, a clean one, and definitely didn’t get it from a can in the alley.’”

“No, I mean…” Adrien hesitated, then sighed. “Pickle jar,” he murmured.

“What?”

“I can’t,” Adrien said, not meeting his eyes. “It means a lot that you offered, but… I can’t.”

“Dude, it’s cold,” Nino said, exasperated. “It’s cold, and there are akumas everywhere. You can’t stay here.”

“I have to,” Adrien said, fidgeting. “It’s hard to explain, but… Anyways, you don’t really want to be around me right now. Just trust me on that.”

“That’s what showers are for! Come on, man, stop being so stubborn about this! I’m your friend. I’m not just going to leave you out here!”

“You are my friend,” Adrien said softly. “My first friend. My best one. That’s _why_ I can’t come. I have to work out some stuff on my own.

“Then tell me what it is,” Nino said, stepping forward. “Whatever it is, I can help! Why don’t you trust—“

“No.”

Nino flinched. There was a steely look in Adrien’s eyes, one Nino’s shy, pushover friend had never displayed before. Whatever was holding him in this alley, it was apparently more important than standing up to his father, or even to Chloe.

Nino stood there for almost a full minute, waiting for Adrien’s look to soften, for his will to waver. But it didn’t. “Some friend I must be, then,” he said quietly. He sighed, frustrated, and held up his hands. “Alright, alright! It’s not like I can force you to come. Will you at least let me bring you some food, though? You keep eating out of the garbage like that, you’re going to make yourself really sick.”

Adrien hesitated, then gave in. “Food would be really nice, actually. Do you have enough?”

“More than enough,” Nino said. “Will you be here tomorrow? I can meet you here again, or anywhere, really.” He would bring some of Mme. Cesaire’s amazing cooking. And some clean water. And a coat! And another attempt to make his friend listen to reason.

“Here is fine,” Adrien said, smiling again. “Thank you, Nino. That really helps.”

“I just wish you’d let me help more,” Nino said. He lifted his phone. “I’m texting you Alya’s address, okay? If you change your mind, come over. I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Adrien agreed. “If I change my mind. Get home safely.”

“You keep safe, too,” Nino said, turning. “Keep warm out here. I’ll see you tomorrow, at sunset.”

“See you then!”

 

 

Adrien waited until the sound of Nino’s music faded into the distance. When he was sure he was alone, he exhaled and trudged over to his dumpster, plopping to the ground next to the graffiti bunny. “Plagg,” he said, lifting the lid on a pizza that, by now, had gone cold. “Supper’s up. There’s cheese.”

Plagg emerged from Adrien’s short-sleeved jacket, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve never felt so disrespected in my life. You dare call that cheese? Honestly, I thought, when I awoke in France, at least at last I was around people who knew what true cheese was!”

“Oh,” Adrien said, pulling a slice free for himself. “Then you don’t want it?”

“I never said that,” Plagg said, before diving on a piece.

Adrien smiled at the kwami before taking a bite himself. Compared to some of the things they had resorted to eating lately, this was luxurious. He leaned his head back against rusty metal as he ate, running over the events of the day. What the-girl-who-looked-like-Marinette-but-definitely-wasn’t-her had said bothered him, no matter how he tried to put it out of his mind.

He had been friends with Marinette, at school. But then, he had been friends with Mylene and Alix and Max, and everyone else in that room, more or less. Friendly, at the very least. Still, that wasn’t the same thing as knowing someone, and he knew it. He knew lots of things about Nino. He only knew a few things about Marinette. Were they so easily stereotyped? The artistic girl. The girl he had given his umbrella too. Little moments, passing interests.

Well, there was Ladybug. He had spent a lot of time with her! He had thought he knew her pretty well, enough to trust whole-heartedly, without hesitation. But if so, then how had he sat in front of her in class every day for months without ever guessing? If Nino had been a secret superhero, would he have known enough to guess?

He was really, really bad at friendships. Nothing had changed, in the end.

“Hey.” Plagg. The little familiar had stopped eating a good five minutes ago, staring at Adrien. Somehow, Adrien hadn’t noticed. “You did the right thing, you know.”

“Hm?”

“About the pickle jar,” Plagg said. “That Alya’s a snoop. If you had brought it within five miles of her, she would have ended up touching it and absorbing all of those akumas, and we would have had to fight Mega-Super-Snoop.”

“Be nice,” Adrien said. “Alya’s a good person. But you’re right.” He shrugged, making himself take another bite. “There was the pickle jar. And there’s me. I’m bad luck, right now. If I got close to them, they’d end up dealing with akumas constantly. Just like when we were in school.”

“Positivity,” Plagg chided, before diving back in to his piece of pizza. “Such a bothersome pickle jar.”

Adrien shrugged, about to make a counterpoint, when he noticed Plagg’s ears twitching. “What is it?”

“Huh? Oh, um… Nothing! Nothing at all.”

“Plagg,” Adrien said, on guard. “What do you hear?”

Plagg sighed. “…A voice calling out for help. Let me guess, Tra—“

“Transform me!”

Lights, energy, power. Sensitive ears. Chat Noir placed the pizza box carefully down, swiveling his cat ears to catch on the sound.

“Help!” she called, desperate and fearful. “Someone, please… It hurts, it hurts so badly…”

Marinette. Whatever he did or didn’t know about her, he definitely knew her voice. He tapped his claws on his baton, anxious. So convenient, he knew it had to be a trap. The question was, did it matter?

“Adrien…”

His ears swiveled back. A new voice, coming from the other end of the alley. Old, pained, pleading. “Adrien, come here. Son… I’ve regained control. Not for long though. I need you!”

Father. Chat Noir turned toward that end of the alley, then toward the end Marinette called from, considering. They sounded so real. As pained as both voices sounded, he _wanted_ them to be real. If Marinette had escaped, or his father was himself again, it would be so, so worth running headfirst into any trap.

He couldn’t go toward both. It was a hard decision, but… As much as he couldn’t kill the part of himself that so desperately wanted his father’s love and attention, he knew the truth now. His father was hurting people. Marinette wasn’t, or at least wasn’t doing it willingly. He had no right to save the wrong person. Gritting his teeth, he turned toward Marinette’s voice.

It lured him further out of his alley, down a particularly twisty, narrow path between buildings. He knew this area well enough now. He knew that it would end in a cul-de-sac. He kept going anyways, all the way to the sudden end.

A bright flash of orange light, and Marinette’s voice choked off. A silhouetted form stood up from where it had been crouching behind an oil drum, giving him a slow clap. “Well done, Adrien. You made the right choice. If you had gone after Papillon for any reason whatsoever, I would have known better than to waste any more time on you.”

Chat Noir glanced down at himself, double-checking that his suit and mask were still on. “You’re Volpina again,” he noted. “Is it the necklace this time, too?”

“Touch it and you die,” she replied. “I like you, Adrien, but not that much.”

Chat Noir smiled easily. “Look, I’m flattered that you set all of this up for me, but if you wanted to pick a cat fight, all you had to do was ask. It’s been a long day, and I’m paws-itively desperate to vent some fur-ustation.”

“Cute,” Volpina said, hopping up and crouching on the oil drum. She smiled down at him, her look measured and calculating. “Don’t be so quick to lump all of us supervillains in together. I’m actually here to offer you a favor. Won’t you hear me out? Or are you too afraid of what curiosity does to cats?”  
Chat Noir put a hand over his heart, pretending to be shocked. “A fellow pun enthusiast! It’s a shame I have no reason to trust you. Are you trying to say you aren’t working for Papillon?”

“Technically, I am,” she said, with a casual shrug. “But no one said it had to be an exclusive relationship, right? I think, Chat Noir, that I would like to work closely with you, too. I have some information that I think you’ll find valuable. Very, very valuable.”

He lifted an eyebrow, guarded, but relenting. “I’m listening.”


	7. Part 7

“You know what I love about cats?” Volpina said, still smiling down from where she crouched on top of a discarded oil drum. “They’re slaves to no man. A well-trained dog will pick up all of its toys when ordered, but little kitty cats…” She reached out, touching the tip of one black ear experimentally, and trying to guess how much he felt it. “They tend to forget all sorts of things when they run off. Toys. Food. Girls named Marinette.”

“I didn’t forget her,” Chat Noir insisted. “I had to run away. If I hadn’t—“

“Mm, another thing I love about cats,” Volpina said, laughing quietly to herself. “So stubborn and sure of their own superiority. You’ll never catch a cat looking apologetic about anything it does.” She paused, smirking at the look on his face. “It’s not a criticism. I’m the exact same way.”

Chat Noir sighed. “Can we cut it out with the games? Even if you’re not going to fight me, I would prefer it if you picked some other way to get my attention, besides taunting me with voices of people I’ve lost. That wasn’t necessary.”

“On the contrary. It was completely necessary,” Volpina said, reluctantly withdrawing her hand from his ears. “Like I said, I had to test your priorities. If you still held out any misguided shred of hope for saving Papillon, things just weren’t ever going to work out between us.”

“Maybe they still won’t,” Chat Noir said, bothered. He hadn’t seen it that way, when he had turned away from his father’s voice. How could he? Even now, despite everything, he still loved his father. If there was any possibility that he could fix whatever had gone wrong in the man… “You said that you had some information,” he said, crossing his arms. “What exactly is it that you want from me?”

“Simple,” Volpina said, leaning in. “I just—“

A pink butterfly shape appeared over her eyes. She stiffened, whatever she had been about to say choked off.

“Volpina?” he asked.

“Oh for crying out… The _worst_ timing.” She lunged at him suddenly, snarling. Before he could react, she had pinned him against the opposite wall, her hands around his neck.

“Agck!” He pushed back against her, fighting for breath. She was strong! Had this been her tactic all along? Lure him in with jokes and witty banter, until his guard was down, and then…!

His baton had fallen out of his grip. He could see it, laying four feet behind her, well out of his reach. Spots were starting to appear in his vision, the longer she strangled him. “L…Li…la….”

“Give up, Chat Noir,” she hissed, canines bared in a wicked grin. “Another minute, and your miraculous will be m—Ow! You kicked me!”

He stared at her in confusion. Maybe it was the oxygen deprivation, but he was pretty sure that he hadn’t.

Regardless, she fell, seemingly in real pain. She curled up on the pavement, holding her midsection. “Curse you, Chat Noir!”

“You’re crazy,” he gasped, doubling over and gulping for air. Head spinning, he darted around her, scooped up his baton, and took off running. He was on the rooftops in less than a minute, increasing the distance between them. Beyond confused.

 

.:|:.

 

Nino eased the door open, trying to minimize the creaking. They had left the door unlocked. That was careless. But he couldn’t manage to be too upset. The warm lighting and decorations of the Cesaire home welcomed him in, and instantly, he felt a little better. He slipped inside, then shut the door behind him, fastening the locks.

“Hey.” Alya stirred on the couch, where she had fallen asleep, curled up with a tablet playing a live newstream. She lifted her head and smiled at him, sleepy. “You’re home.”

“Yeah. I guess I am.” He smiled softly back at her, stepping into the living room. A basket of laundry had been filled with folded clothes on a chair, but not yet put away. He picked up a spare blanket from the top of the pile, and carried it toward Alya, carefully tucking it around her shoulders. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, yawning and straightening her glasses on her face. “Not now that you’re here.” She turned off the tablet, then sat up, patting the seat on the couch next to her. “How did picture-taking go?”

“Wellllll…” He sank into the soft cushions, pulling out his phone. “I got some of them. Sorry. Some things came up.”

“Couldn’t get to all of them?” Alya asked, reaching for the device. “That’s okay. It was a long list. And, I mean, things are crazy out there.”

“Haha, yeah. Crazy…”

She rested her head on his shoulder as she began flipping through the photos he had shot. “Thank you for these, Nino. These are really good. They’re going to do great.”

“You’re sweet,” he said, tired. He leaned his head back, letting his arm find its way around her. “But I’m sure they’re just okay. My camera isn’t as good as yours, and I don’t really know what I’m doing with photography.”

“Don’t say that. You did great!” She looked up at him, earnest. “I mean it. Especially right now, with everything falling apart… It’s really good to have you here. I can’t tell you how much it means to me, to have someone I can talk to, and rely on…”

“Really?” he asked, glancing at her. Alya seemed so strong and full of energy, not the type of person that need to lean on others much.

“Yeah,” she murmured, resting against him again. Drowsy, she let her eyes close. “You’ve been so good at being there for me, lately. You’re practically my own personal superhero. No-Problems Nino.”

“O-of course. No problems…” He frowned deeply. Alya hadn’t meant anything by it. It had been a nice comment, supposed to be a compliment. It wasn’t her fault he suddenly felt so ill at ease.

Long minutes passed, her head on his shoulder, the apartment peacefully silent apart from the sound of their breathing. He thought she had drifted off to sleep again until—

“Nino?”

“Hm?”

“You’re home later than usual tonight. Mom was worried. Did something happen?”

He looked down at the top of her beautiful hair. “…No. Nothing like that. Everything’s fine.”

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir slept in past noon, the next day, completely by accident. Even without de-transforming, it seemed the lack of sleep was slowly starting to catch up with him. There were three main neighborhoods that he had decided, at the beginning of all of this, that he was going to try to patrol once every twenty-four hours, territory that he would make it his goal to keep free of akumatized villains. It was physically impossible, even for him, to cover all of Paris in a day. So at the least, he wanted to keep an eye on the areas where most of his akuma-surviving classmates lived. It normally took a good nine hours to thoroughly check every single street in that area.

So, when he woke up around 15:00 the next day, with most of the daylight hours already gone, he flew into a panic.

By the time sunset hit, even running the whole way and covering the area faster than he had ever managed before, he still was only half done. He paused on the roof of a bus in a previously upscale neighborhood, doubling over for a moment to gasp for breath.

The smell of baking bread hit him, all at once, and his stomach tightened with hunger. Wistfully, he looked around, following his nose.

…Oh. Right, he had made it to _that_ area. Most windows on this street, if the buildings were still occupied, had long since been shuttered or boarded up. Not the windows of the Dupain-Cheng bakery, where even now, every night, the owners kept an eye out in case their young daughter ever ended up suddenly, finally coming home from school. He could see Tom Dupain from here, arranging uncooked loaves on a baking tray, from a back window. The man’s massive shoulders were bowed as he worked, worry and sadness permanently etched into his face.

Chat Noir wanted very badly to go up to them. For one thing, he was beyond curious what he might find in Marinette’s room, whether something there might give him any sort of hint or clue toward how to rescue her. Even more than that, though, her parents deserved answers. But… What could he even say to them? _“Excuse me, sir. I’m that boy you so generously fed all the delicious foods to before. I just wanted to let you know, your daughter had been kidnapped by a terrifying supervillain, and possibly turned into a creature of darkness. Did I mention that I was there and even helped it happen?”_ Surely, that would only make them feel worse.

…Oh, whatever. The thought felt half-hearted even to himself. The truth was, he was a coward who couldn’t bear to face them with his failures.

“Chat Noir.”

He stiffened at the voice. He had been working on not lowering his guard as much lately, so why was he still being surprised by things like this?! He jerked around, facing Volpina where she stood on a rooftop all the way on the other side of the street.

“Got a minute?” she asked, cocky and smug. “I wasn’t done speaking, the last time.”

The scent was all wrong. She was an illusion. Chat Noir didn’t care. He turned, and sprang onto the rooftop of the bakery, running away.

“Hey, wait!”

He ignored her, taking off on a four-legged dead run, leaning in to put all speed into it. This was risky of her. Out here was pretty far from Papillon.

Orange blurred past him, and the illusion re-formed right in front of him. “Will you just _llisten_ to me for a second?”

He swung out with his baton, which she dodged. He followed up with a karate heel kick, which she did not dodge. Orange smoke. He jumped through it, and resumed running.

More illusions popped up around him, no matter how he zigged and zagged. Always Volpina, in increasingly angry tones, trying to get his attention or block his way. He ducked under things, backtracked, tried every trick in the book to shake her off. The girl was stubborn, he gave her that. Possibly even more stubborn than he was.

He ran along the top of an old garden wall, thinking that maybe he would try sliding into someone’s house, just for a minute, just on the hope that she wouldn’t follow. Another Volpina appeared in front of him, but he paid it no more attention than he had the other Volpinas. He poured more speed into his run, yelling, planning to burst right through her with a hard flying kick—

It was dark. Even a cat couldn’t be expected to spot the grease that had been dribbled hastily along the top of the wall. Before he realized what was happening, he was slipping, sliding wildly, unable to get his balance. When he crashed into her, she didn’t disappear, but latched her hands onto his arms. Together they tumbled off of the wall, into the bushes below.

They both lay there for a minute, stunned, tangled up together. Chat Noir recovered first, and began scrambling to disentangle himself from her and the bushes, clawing his way out. He felt her hand close around his tail, and yank him back in. “Let go,” he snarled.

“Not until you let me explain,” she said, fighting to keep her grip on him.

“The last time I let you explain, you strangled me!” Chat Noir protested.

“What does it take to get you to _shut up_ for two minutes?!” She rolled on top of him suddenly, picked him up by the front of the suit, and slammed him into the ground. He looked up at her face, his ears flat against his head.

Volpina took a breath. “The mask. The pink one. Did you see it flicker on my face last night?”

“Um… Yeah? Now that you mention it, I think I did.”

She smirked, triumphant. “Then you can see it. You never could before, right? That’s how you know you’ve been akumatized at least once. It’s how the Big Boss communicates with us while we’re possessed.”

He had flashbacks, suddenly. Drowning in a dark place. A pink light ahead. Whispers, in the back of his mind… He groaned, closing his eyes for a second under the assault. He could remember very little of what it was like to be akumatized, but what he could recall was traumatic.

She leaned in closer, dropping her voice. “Papillon has _hundreds_ of akumas running around now, many of them doing complicated things. Even when he’s trying to focus, he’s _distracted_ now, all of the time. I can do whatever I want these days, and for the most part, he doesn’t notice. At least, until the pink light flickers on. Then I know I’ve done something to get his attention.”

“And if he’s watching, and he sees you not trying to beat me up, it looks bad,” Chat Noir said, fighting a headache. “So that’s why you nearly broke my neck last night. Got it. Dandy. Let me up.”

“Good kitty. I knew you’d catch on quick.” She rolled off of him, standing and brushing leaves and twigs out of her hair. “He’s definitely interested in you, at least. Which means I am too.”

Chat Noir sat up, rubbing his head. “What is it, exactly, that you want? You’re going to a lot of trouble to talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

“Well, you want Marinette back, right?” Volpina asked, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re never going to get her on your own. I should know. You need someone on the inside to help you.”

“Like you?” Chat Noir frowned. “I thought you hated Marinette.”

“Oh, I do,” she said, voice teetering on the edge of dangerous. “Or Ladybug, at least. Believe me, I don’t feel bad for her right now or anything. If it was just her, I’d leave her to rot.”

“Then why help me?” Chat Noir asked. He got to his feet, shaking himself off. “Especially if you’re akumatized. If you’re really willing to defy Papillon, you’ll be putting yourself at a lot of risk.”

Volpina was silent for a long moment, her back turned to him. At her sides, her hands clenched and unclenched. “…I just… I don’t know. I can’t even explain it to myself, I think. I’m confused, lately, unable to think straight. I look at the city, and the people, and what’s happening, and I just… Just…”

He stepped up, to stand beside her. “I thought so,” he said softly. “You put up a big front at school, and told all those stories, but… It was defensive, wasn’t it? You feel like you have to, for some reason. Everyone thinks you’re the next Chloe, but I’ve always had this feeling… I think you’re a good person inside.”

She scoffed, amused. “Do you? Or is that just what I want you to think of me?”

He hesitated, searching her face. “Lila… Let me free you. If I break the necklace—“

“Don’t. And I’m not Lila. Not anymore.” Volpina flipped her hair over her shoulder, turning to face him. “I haven’t been for more than a month now. After that first fight, Lila _agreed_ to be akumatized again. She asked for it. She likes Volpina better, and so do I. You know the feeling, right?” Playfully, she reached forward, flicking the bell around his neck to make it ring. “This freedom, these powers—you would be crazy not to want to feel this way, all the time. Volpina is the greatest thing that ever happened to me! So what if it comes with a little evil? Run a few errands for Papillon occasionally, steal this, spy on that… The rest of the time, I can do whatever I want, and it’s great!”

“Until it’s not,” Chat Noir said. “Until Papillon goes too far, and you start hearing your conscience again. Right?”

“Or maybe I’m just tired of working for Papillon, and want to be my own boss. It’s not full freedom if you’re wearing a leash.” She put up an exasperated expression, as though his reply had been totally unreasonable. But he caught it, the little glimpse of hesitation and recognition. He was willing to bet that he had put into words something Volpina hadn’t even admitted to herself.

“Well?” she asked.

Chat Noir considered. “I want to believe you, Lila. I really do.”

“ _Don’t_ call me Lila,” she said. “And… I brought you something. A token of my sincerity.” She reached into the tail-like wrap around her waist, into a pocket apparently hidden somewhere inside. Chat Noir felt briefly jealous—his costume didn’t have any pockets. “Hold out your hand,” she said.

He did. She covered it, briefly, with hers. When she pulled away, a small, beaded bracelet rested on his gloved palm. He recognized it immediately. Marinette’s secret good luck charm, to help her with video games. He tightened his fingers over it. Marinette had been wearing this, the last time he had seen her! How had she…?

His ears twitched. “There’s—“

“Yes. I hear it too.” Volpina was no longer smiling. “They’ve surrounded us.”

A whistling sound, of something being thrown. Relying on feline reflex, Chat Noir lashed out with his baton at the last second. He caught a glimpse of a black and silver yoyo before it snapped back up.

They emerged, then, the Marinettes. The scissor-wielding one, on a corner of the garden wall. The one with the umbrella, who had been hiding in one of the trees. One Chat Noir had never seen before, holding what looked like a gift box with a large bow, crouched in a corner of the garden and hiding her face behind her hands.

And the leader, in all black and silver just like her sisters, standing at the roof’s edge high above. The moon glinted off of her spots, as she lazily played with her yoyo, up and down. Her smile was cruel, her eyes focused on Chat Noir’s miraculous. “Volpina,” she called. “Am I to understand it that you’ve gone traitor?”

Volpina visibly bristled, taking a half-step away from Chat Noir. “Hardly, New Girl,” she called back. “I’m working on something here. Go away.”

“Maybe I will,” the evil Ladybug said. “Maybe I’ll go straight to Papillon and tell him how you and Chat Noir were spotted out here, among the trees, ~k-i-s-s-i-n-g~.”

“Whatever,” Volpina said, voice lowered to a hiss. She fetched her staff from the bushes, gripping it tightly. “If I destroy you before you make it back, you won’t remember anything by the time you regenerate.”

Chat Noir looked between them all, trying to figure it out. This was far from Papillon’s main area! He had never seen them this far out before. He sniffed, but couldn’t tell them apart. They all smelled exactly like Marinette. Sound, sight, that one extra sense that Adrien never felt, that he was pretty sure didn’t have a name… He just couldn’t tell, if one of them was the real Marinette or not.

“Hear that, ladies?” Not-Ladybug called. “We officially have a threat made. What happens next is _justified_.” She snapped her yoyo up into her hand, preparing to attack. “Leave Adrien alive if you can. The miraculous comes first, though!”

Just like that, they were on them. Arts-and-Crafts Marinette moved quickest, throwing her needle toward them from behind. Volpina blocked it, pressing her back to Chat Noir’s before swiping out at the box-holding Marinette.

The yoyo swung down from above, wrapping around Chat Noir’s baton. He had sparred enough with the real Ladybug to be ready for it, though. His grip tightened just before she could yank it away, and instead he pulled. Yelling in surprise, Not-Ladybug stumbled off of the roof, struggling for a moment, to catch her balance.

Even her fighting style was identical to Marinette’s, strengths and flaws. He shook off the thought, concentrating. Now was his opening! He stepped forward, extending his pole rapidly, preparing to sweep her entirely off her feet—

The black gust hit him, knocking him back. He looked up, alarmed, at Umbrella Marinette. Still sitting at a safe distance in the tree, she focused, rapidly opening and closing the umbrella, and shot another mass of black… something… at him.

He watched it hit, confused. It just felt like air. “That didn’t… do anything?”

“Oh yes it did,” Volpina hissed, busy with Box Marinette and Crafts Marinette. “Don’t let her hit you again! She’s the worst out of all four of them.”

“Really?” He glanced at Not-Ladybug, who had recovered and was wheeling back for another attack. If Volpina said so. He began to rush forward, to close the distance—

And tripped on a tree root. He went sprawling, baton rolling across the lawn far out of his reach.

Not-Ladybug walked toward him, slowly spinning her yoyo. He rolled back up, grabbing a fist-sized rock and hurling it at her. He did everything perfectly, flawless aim, power, and speed. At the last moment, a sudden wind picked up, blowing it off course and missing her head by centimeters.

And then she was on him. She used her yoyo like a club, swinging it at him in a frenzy, from all sorts of different angles. He clenched his fists, trying to follow it, to block it at every strike. Not so different from something they had practiced with in karate, but… Much more often than he should have, he missed, and felt the pain at the yoyo struck him. _Everything_ felt off, suddenly. She was driving him back and back, toward a corner, and he only noticed at the last second that he was about to trip down a couple of garden stairs.

A sudden mental image, of Marinette, not paying attention, losing her footing going down the front steps of their school. She had stumbled down, just barely avoiding faceplanting. If he hadn’t caught her at the very bottom, she might have been seriously hurt. She was always like that, with a knack for incredible bad luck…

He figured it out, all at once. Umbrellas were bad luck when opened indoors. The girl in the tree had fired an umbrella beam at him, and now nothing was going right, his movements unusually clumsy. How many beams would it take, before he couldn’t even stand up right?

He didn’t intend to find out. Recklessly, he threw himself at Not-Ladybug, ducking another dark beam. He couldn’t reach his baton, but a decorative plaster cherub was laying by the gravel pathway, and he picked it up and began wielding it, striking blow after blow.

He could tell right away that he had thrown her off balance. Ladybug (and this shadow of her) was quick and agile, and could use her yoyo in creative, flexible ways. But she had always had a slight weakness for full-on, intense assault. The real Ladybug would have tried to put distance between them, to duck in for quick strikes before darting back out again. By attacking relentlessly with such a heavy, blunt object, he wasn’t giving her a chance to. Instead, she was forced to stay on the defensive, barely managed to duck attack after attack. He began pushing _her_ back toward a corner, yelling with determination, even as the cherub began to crack.

She gasped as the plaster hit her wrist, knocking the yoyo out of her hand. Another strike, and he had knocked her down, though the sculpture crumbled from the impact. He grabbed her by the collar of her uniform, and hauled her up, one clawed hand pulled back to strike. She looked up at him, frightened and without words, her face telling him that she knew she had lost.

He hesitated. She wasn’t the real one. He knew that. He was at least eighty percent sure! And yet... And yet—  
Pain. Something shoved him hard from behind, and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He looked down, bewildered, at the oversized scissor blades now emerging from his chest.

Stupid… So stupid… He had dropped his guard again. Forgotten to pay attention to things going on around him. Crafts Marinette must have gotten away from Volpina while he was busy, run up behind him, and…

Such terrible, terrible luck… He slumped to all fours, coughing. He was so hot, suddenly, burning up. And the world was spinning, time slowing to a crawl. Couldn’t breathe… couldn’t…

Volpina was yelling. Not-Ladybug, in front of him, stood. Reached for him. He should do something, but… He couldn’t… just… wh…?!

So hot, and then cold. He was about to fall. A dark pit ahead, and no pink light, this time, to guide him out of it. Just pain, and confusion and falling, and Ladybug’s face, looking down at him with utter hatred and revulsion.

Something grabbed him, and lifted him up. The pain snapped him back to the present with an agonized yell. He was carried up, on top of the garden wall, then down on the other side. Volpina had him… was carrying him… They were running, and…

The world was swirling again. He blinked, trying to stay awake. The scissors were gone, now, disappeared. Instead, he was covered in ashes, ashes that were evaporating, trailing purple smoke behind them. He watched it swerve and sway as he was carried, fascinated.

Dark streets. Volpina put him down, bent over him, checking. She breathed out, relieved. She was saying something, but to Chat Noir, her words were fading in and out, most of them too nebulous for him to grab onto. “wound is…half-sealed…kwami…going to be f…”

He stared up at her, unable to process her words. His vision was badly blurred, forming an odd, stomach-churning halo around her and everything else in the background.

Running noises, in the distance. She jerked, looking around wildly. Turned back to him again, eyes hard with anger. “Stay down,” she hissed at him, before lifting her staff to her lips. Flute notes poured out, feeding a ball of orange energy at the staff’s tip.

She lifted it, then struck herself with it. Black swirls. Another Chat Noir was looking down at him, twirling an identical baton.

Manic laughter, closer now. The other Chat Noir glanced behind him. “Don’t move,” he said. Then turned. Then bounded away, lifting his baton, already preparing to resume the fight.

Chat Noir watched his doppelganger go. The clamor of fighting continued, then faded slowly, as the Marinettes were led further away. Time faded in and out, marked only by the sound of his own gasping in his ears. At some point, he regained lucidity for a moment, and realized that he was completely alone, shivering and fighting to stay awake.

 

.:|:.

 

Nino whistled to himself as he strolled down the streets, in a better mood than he had been in days. There had been nothing that needed to be done for once, so he had spent the entire day indoors, playing a video game and watching movies. He hadn’t realized it, but the gradual buildup of stress had been getting him. Just one day of relaxing and having fun had done wonders to improve how he felt.

He shifted the bundle on his back—clothes and food and hygiene supplies, wrapped up in three very warm blankets. He had been able to find all kinds of things that weren’t being used, that the Cesaires didn’t mind parting with. Maybe Adrien would agree to come with him tonight, maybe not, but either way, he had a feeling that soon things would be—

A moan, weak and in pain. Nino froze for a moment, looking around for the source. Adrien’s alley was maybe thirty yards away, and really, the smartest thing would have been to keep moving. But then he heard it again.

Slight movement. A figure in a black suit lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious. But then he moved his arm again, dragging himself another few centimeters along the ground. Dirty blonde hair pooled around his face, punctuated by two cat ears, twitching deliriously on their own.

“I don’t believe it,” Nino said. “Chat Noir?”

The figure mumbled something, delirious. Behind him, a long, winding track trailed through the dirt of the street, where he had apparently tried to drag himself a good distance before passing out cold.

Nino looked toward the alley where Adrien would be waiting, so close, even in the direction Chat Noir seemed to have been trying to go. He hated to let his friend down. But he kind of figured he knew what Adrien would want to do, in this situation. Warily, he approached the superhero, frowning. Then swore softly when he got a good view of the poor guy’s injuries.

Slowly, he put the blanket bundle down. Drew out his phone, keeping an eye on the slowly moving, barely conscious person. Chat Noir didn’t move, slumped and helpless in the street, barely breathing.

“Alya? I’ve got kind of a situation here…”


	8. Part 8

“It appears someone had a rough night,” Papillon remarked, leaning against the rail in his observatory. “I’m surprised. It’s not like you to take on so much damage, Volpina.”

She was kneeling before him, head bowed, covered in scrapes, bruises, and burns. An audience had been requested, and granted. While her posture remained completely subordinate and submissive, her eyes flicked up, looking at a point behind him, full of anger. “I’m afraid, sir, that I had to deal with a little interference. Your girls are getting out of hand.”

“Oh?” He turned, glancing at the villain standing behind him. The girl who looked so much like Marinette didn’t look up, focusing on her pair of scissors as they discharged the life energy they had built up, directly into his body. There was more energy than usual, today, with a particular tang to it that felt so strangely familiar to him. His akumas would be pleased. “How so?”

“I nearly had Chat Noir’s miraculous,” Volpina said, loathing in her voice. “He’s such an idiot. Even after earlier, I had him going, starting to trust me, to lean in… And then these ones crashed in, with all the grace of a crippled elephant, and bungled it up! They had no clue what I was trying to do, and they turned on me anyways.”

“Is that true?” Papillon said, looking at the scissor-wielding Marinette. She looked up at him for a moment, then shrugged, averting her eyes. If she did, she had no memory of it. She was fresh, newly spawned this morning.

“Well. You have my apologies,” Papillon said. “I’ll have a word with them all later, and see that it doesn’t happen again. Please, continue trying to retrieve the cat miraculous.”

“Of course, sir. But I have a request.” Volpina paused, meeting his eyes. “Will you let me into Adrien’s room? I think there’s an object in there that, if I use it right, will get me his miraculous for sure. He’s an emotional type, so—“

“Adrien’s room is in the west wing of the house,” Papillon said, “on the third story.”

“…Yes? I suppose it is?”

“That particular area is high-security,” he explained. “Anything I don’t want becoming freely available, I keep in that set of rooms. Only those in my most trusted inner circle are allowed inside.”

“Aw, Boss,” Volpina said, tilting her head and flashing him a crooked smile. “You don’t trust me? After all we’ve been through together?”

“I remain grateful for your services thus far,” Papillon said, unruffled. “The fact remains, though, that I’ve given you a lot of freedom and retained personality, for one of my akumas. That makes you invaluable in the field, but around certain sensitive areas… It’s a liability. I’m sure you understand.”

He was turning away from her, about to dismiss her. Volpina’s eyes narrowed, knowing that if she didn’t act quickly, it would be over. She stood. “Sir. What would I have to do, to prove myself to you?”

He turned back, regarding her.

“My loyalty to you is unshakeable,” she said, fervent. “You’ve given me _everything_ , and I can never fully repay you for that. But I want to try. It would be my greatest honor to bring you the cat miraculous. But to do that, first I must earn your trust. Tell me what I must do, anything at all.”

Papillon smirked, amused. “If only Gabriel were still awake,” he noted, tapping his fingers on the head of his cane. “I’m curious what his reaction would have been. He would have been much happier, with you for a daughter, I think.”

He lifted his head. “There’s an item I want, a jewel. Nathalie will know exactly the one I mean, and be able to give you details. It’s well outside of my secured area, though, and I’ve been having difficulty finding a supervillain suited to its retrieval.” He reached forward, placing his hand upon her head. “Perhaps you are such a villain, my dear.”

“A jewel,” she repeated. “It will soon be yours, Papillon. I swear it.”

“Good,” he said, smiling down at her. He changed the position of his hand slightly, feeding dark energy into her. She sighed in relief as her akuma absorbed it, rewarding her with healing, and every ounce of pain and wounding in her body began to fade away.

 

.:|:.

 

Adrien was in the middle of having a nightmare when the microwave beeped. Consciousness sloughed over him in gradual, sickening waves, pressing down on him until the dream of his father reaching out for him dissipated under its weight. He opened his bleary eyes to a ceiling fan, watching it turn in slow, lazy circles.

The news was on somewhere, a reporter saying something about “pleas for assistance to the military”. He paid no attention to it, taking in the soft sunlight playing over the ceiling. School was going to start soon. But… He couldn’t go. He was going to have to tell Nathalie he needed a sick day. He felt terrible, an incredible pain in his stomach, like… like…

It flashed back to him suddenly. The garden. Volpina. An evil Ladybug. _Scissors._

He gasped with pain, jerking upwards. Quickly, he grabbed the colorful crocheted blanket on top of him, pulling it back. The scent of strong antiseptic hit him. Someone had removed his shirt, and bandaged his torso. Beneath the coverings and dressings, black veins crawled out over his skin, sunk deep into the tissues.

“Nino!” a female voice called, sounding distracted. “He’s awake!”

Startled, he whipped his head around, trying to take in his surroundings quickly. He was laying on a comfortable bed, one with a tasteful blue and yellow set of sheets and pillows in a feminine pattern. The bedroom around him was organized, but small and crowded, full of clashing bits of technology and superhero paraphernalia. A girl sat at a computer desk in the corner, eyes glued to one of the dual monitors, while her hands worked on some sort of broken device full of bits of wire, circuits, and metal pieces.

“Alya?” Adrien asked, trying to sit up. He choked on sudden pain, and fell back down onto the pillows. Red flashed over his vision, agonized. One hand grabbed out at the night stand for support, and knocked a book over.

He looked over at the noise, and panicked more. Plagg was laying on a box of tissues, asleep, way out in the open where everyone could see! He grabbed at the kwami, frantic.

“Oh yeah, that thing.” Nino’s voice. The boy was standing in the doorway, looking down at Adrien with concern. “Is it still sleeping too?”

What was he _doing_ here? “Nino!” Adrien gasped, voice choked. He looked down at Plagg, struggling to come up with an excuse. “This is a stuffed… No, this is a _mouse_ that—“

“Chill,” Nino said, moving toward the side of the bed. “Before you hurt yourself. We know.”

“Yeah, you kind of turned back into yourself as we were dragging you home,” Alya said, still fixated on the news report coming from her monitor.

Adrien let out a shuddery breath. He slowly tried to sit up again, to get a look at himself. “Well…” A strained, awkward laugh. “I guess the… cat’s… out of the bag, huh?”

Nino pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. “My best friend is a super-powered dork.”

“What are these things?” Adrien asked, touching the black veins radiating from his wound. They looked at first like scars, but on a closer look, he could see that they were scaly and textured, not unlike the material of Chat Noir’s suit.

“Your ‘mouse’ said that you’d been attacked, when he popped out of your ring,” Alya reluctantly tore her eyes away from the screen and spun in her office chair to face him. “Before he passed out, he gave us the basic idea, and put those on you. Whatever they are, they kept you alive. There was only so much we could do with a kitchen first aid kit.”

“Plagg,” Adrien said, looking down at the kwami in his hand. Even being jostled around so much, the miniature cat hadn’t stirred even slightly. He gently laid him down on the bed beside him, worried. “Poor thing. He seems exhausted.”

“So were you,” Nino said, pulling a chair over. “You’ve been out for two days now, man. We were scared for you.”

“Two _days_?!”

“Mhm,” Alya said. “From what he said, it sounds like you got into a scrap with the akunettes. You’re lucky you got out at all. And that Nino found you.”

Adrien frowned. “Akunettes?”

“Those weird akuma villains that look like Marinette,” Nino explained. “Or at least, that’s what Alya calls them. She’s given them each individual names, too, and detailed blog posts.”

“You were stabbed by Couterette, right?” Alya asked, pulling up a word processor and beginning to take notes. “The one with the scissors and the needles?”

“It could also have been Paraplunette,” Nino pointed out. “The end of that umbrella looked pretty sharp.”

They were talking too fast, throwing too many new terms at him, and he couldn’t follow them. Now that he was awake, the hurting in his chest was really starting to kick in, making his head spin. He lifted his hand, looking dully at the silver ring resting safely on his finger. If someone besides Nino had found him, and taken it… “I’ve got to get back out there,” he said.

“Stop it with the tough loner act,” Nino said, shaking his head. “Seriously! Just chill out and let people help you for once. You’re healing freakishly fast, but you’re still pretty badly hurt. Besides…” He leaned forward. “We actually could really use your help. See, Alya found these—“

Alya cleared her throat. Her arms were crossed, and she was glaring at Nino.

Nino looked back at her, confused. “…What? He’s Chat Noir, Alya! If anyone would know how they worked—“

“Nino,” Alya said, standing suddenly. She looked at Adrien, and there was a coldness in her eyes that he had never seen before, that he didn’t understand. “Can I talk to you? Outside?”

“Uh… Sure. I mean, I guess.” Nino frowned, reaching down and pulling the blanket back up over Adrien. “We’ll be right back. You need anything, just yell, okay?” Hesitant, he followed Alya out of the door.

Adrien listened to them go, puzzled. He tried to lay back, to relax. But after weeks on the street in near constant danger, he couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t just lay still and do nothing for more than a few minutes without going crazy. He moved Plagg up onto his pillow, and began the slow, laborious process of easing himself up out of bed.

 

 

“What was that about?” Nino asked, a little irritated. “You mind telling me why we’re keeping secrets from Adrien?”

They were standing at the top of the stairwell that led down to the restaurant kitchen below. A single bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling, casting harsh yellow light randomly among flickering shadows. Alya stood across from him, feet planted, arms crossed. “We don’t know what he was doing out there on those streets,” she said. “For all we know, he could be spying, or worse.”

“Spying? Adrien?” Nino laughed. “Does he really seem like the secret-ey cloak and dagger type to you?”

“He was Chat Noir,” Alya pointed out. “For an entire year of school, he was Chat Noir, and no one found out. _You_ certainly didn’t find out, Mister I-know-him-better-than-anyone. He’s obviously at least a little skilled at handling deception.”

“Okay, so he was Chat Noir,” he said, starting to get frustrated. “But that’s just it! He’s Chat Noir! A superhero. Come on, Alya, you _love_ superheroes, don’t you?”

“He’s also an Agreste.”

“Alya…”

“Well, he is, Nino!” Alya sighed, straightening her glasses. “The son of Papillon, as far as anyone knows. Do you really think they were both superpowered in the same house, without either one of them knowing about each other for so long? I’ve…” Her voice lowered. “I’ve had this theory.”

“Oh, here we go again,” Nino said, gripping the rail behind him. “Another one of your theories!”

“Listen!” she said, getting upset. “I was there, okay? I was with Ladybug, right before she went into the mansion. She was following Chat Noir, going there because _he_ told her to. She’s so strong, Nino, and she’d never lost before that day. What if he was working with Papillon all along? What if he betrayed her?!”

“Adrien wouldn’t do that!” Nino cried. “I know him, and he wouldn’t! He’s—“

“He’s what?” Alya asked, hot, angry tears beginning to escape her. “Your best friend? What about _my_ best friend?! Because I don’t even know if she’s alive anymore, and it’s like you don’t even _care_ , Nino!”

Something slammed. They went still, startled out of their fighting. “What was that?” Alya asked.

Nino paused, then realized, and turned for the exit. “The front door,” he said, with dread. “He was listening in.”

 

Adrien stumbled down the street, blanket wrapped tightly around him, shivering in the frosty air. He hugged Plagg to him protectively, trying to walk quickly despite the terrible pulsing hurt in his chest. Plagg, jostled by his uneven gait, opened his eyes after a moment, looking up at Adrien. “It was nice back there,” he said weakly. “Where are we going?”

“To get the pickle jar,” Adrien said, through gritted teeth. “And then to find a new place to sleep. It’s getting so that too many people know where to find us.”

“Adrien!”

He paused, reluctantly, at Nino’s voice, but did not turn around.

“Come back inside!” Nino said, upset and looking like he had run to catch up. “Don’t be stubborn. You’ve got a hole in your chest, man! We’ve got plenty of room for you, and lunch is almost ready—“

“It’s Alya’s house,” Adrien said. “If she doesn’t want me there, then I won’t stay.”

“Of course she wants you,” Nino said, spreading his hands in a plea. “You were there for two days while you healed, and she didn’t say a word! She helped me drag you home, even!”

“She doesn’t trust me,” Adrien said. “Who knows? Maybe she’s right not to. I would be pretty mad, too, in her shoes.”

“Look, dude,” Nino said, walking toward him. “Alya will be fine. She’s frustrated and scared right now, and she copes with it by trying to put pieces together, like she’s finding a story that makes sense to her. Come back with me! Give her a little time. She’ll get over it, I promise.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Adrien said, giving up and turning around to look him in the eye. “But I don’t think—Nino!”

“What?” Nino paused, looking confused. He was walking directly through a patch of akumas that were sunning themselves on the sidewalk.

“Don’t move,” Adrien said, terrified. “Stay right there. I’m going to transform, then get you out of there.”

Nino followed his gaze, down to the flock of purple wings around his sneakers. He laughed. “Oh.”

“Oh?!”

“It’s fine,” Nino said, beginning to walk forward again. Holding his breath, Adrien watched as the butterflies parted out of his way, then resettled once he was gone. “They don’t seem to notice me, for whatever reason. It’s nice, you know? I’m immune, so I can run the errands while other people stay inside.”

Adrien stared at him, then groaned suddenly, smacking himself on the forehead.

“You okay?” Nino asked, alarmed. “Is it your wound? I told you, man—“

“No, no, it’s…” Adrien shook his head, mentally kicking himself for not remembering. “Do you remember that day that Miss Bustier turned into Madame Refrain? She shot you, and you turned back into the Bubbler for a while.”

“Sort of,” Nino said, blushing at the memory. If he was going to be forced against his will to be a supervillain, why couldn’t he at least have been one of the cooler ones? “It’s all kind of hazy, to be honest. I remember waking up afterwards, but…”

“We used your akuma, to lead us to Papillon,” Adrien said, looking at Nino with guilt. “I thought, once we found him, that Ladybug could clear it up for you, but… The next time I saw Ladybug, she was trapped. I don’t think it ever got purified, before everything fell apart.”

Nino looked down at the akumas around his feet, processing that. “So it’s still out there somewhere? Like Ivan’s was? And the reason these akumas aren’t trying to get me is—“

“Because you’re still possessed,” Adrien said heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Nino shook his head in disbelief.

Adrien turned away, grim. “Alya’s wrong. I didn’t betray Ladybug. And I wouldn’t betray you. But I did let both of you down, badly. If you look at the results, it might as well be the same thing, right?” He took a step, away from Nino, back toward his alley.

“Adrien, please,” Nino said. “Don’t leave. We could really use your help right now. There’s some things you don’t know about, things we’re trying to figure out—“

“I’m in a hurry,” Adrien said. “Two days behind… There’s so much I need to do. Go back inside, Nino, where it’s safe. And try to stay positive. If you focus on good feelings, it’ll keep your akuma away. …I think me hanging around would probably just make you worse, at this point.”

He walked away from Nino, limping up the street, with a long way to go. He didn’t seem to notice the bubbles that Nino saw, drifting in small clumps through the air, glinting in the cold sun.

 

 

It took Adrien more than two hours to get back to the dumpster, even though it really wasn’t that far away. By the end of it, he was having to stop every five minutes or so to take breaks. Finally, though, with relief, he located the pickle jar, along with his backpack. Tired, he sank to the ground, setting the jar in his lap. He was already so far behind, but… A quick nap, and then he would look for a new hiding spot.

“Chat Noir.”

“Ahh!” He jumped, scared into wakefulness, and turned. Volpina had sneaked up so close that, when he whipped around, her face was two inches from his, amused. “Don’t _do_ that!” he yelled.

“You tend to not watch what’s going on directly behind you,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “I’ve noticed that. You should work on that.”

“And don’t call me ‘Chat Noir’ like this,” he said, trying to regain his composure. “Haven’t you ever heard of a super identity?”

“Why?” she asked, nonplussed. “Every supervillain in the city knows who you are. And now it looks like your friends do, too.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Is this what you do all day? Stalk me around the city?”

“Not most days,” she said, leaning forward. She grabbed onto the edge of the blanket he was wearing as a shirt, pulling it over the jar of akumas. That was the sort of thing that would be hard to explain, if her boss tuned in to her activities while she was here. “The only reason I know about today is because I was trying to find you earlier, and had to track you to that restaurant. You’re healing nicely, by the way. Kwami super-healing seems pretty nifty.”

“And you?” he asked, relaxing a little. “Were you able to get away from the Marinettes okay the other night?”

“Yes, until I destroyed them all,” Volpina replied, smirking. “I’m worth a dozen Ladybugs, any day.” She took a seat next to him. “Listen. Do you still want to team up, to get her back?”

“I never agreed to it the other night.” A pause. “But… Yes. You saved my life. I guess I should try trusting you. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said airily. “I like a man with a few scars.” She leaned forward, eyes glittering. “I have a plan, something that will convince Papillon to let me close to where Marinette might be. But I need your help to do it.”

“Okay,” he said. “What is it?”

She grinned wide. “Oh, you know, stealing a priceless gem from the Louvre. It’ll be fun! You in?”


	9. Part 9

The Paris police force had seen better days. Police live stressful lives, full of confrontation, responsibility, high workloads, and occasional danger. As a result, a staggering number of them had fallen victim to the akumas just in the first few days of the occupation. Responding to this, overwhelmed and facing enemies that they couldn’t effectively fight, an almost-as-staggering number had stopped showing up to work, choosing to stay home with their families where it was safe.

A small, largely overwhelmed core group remained on patrol, stubbornly trying to enforce order in the streets despite Papillon’s steadily increasing grip on the city. Roger, Sabrina’s father, was one of them. Previously akumatized, he still retained his immunity to the dark butterflies covering every square kilometer of his beat. He felt this stroke of luck compelled him to use it, in order to help those less protected. They had been ordered from up top not to engage any supervillains they encountered, but at the very least, he could try to cut down on the looters and other criminals taking advantage of the situation, and attempt to steer as many people toward safe places as possible.

He was crossing one of the larger bridges over the Seine, whistling to himself, when the beam of his flashlight fell on the young girl. Alone and unprotected, she was curled up below a broken street lamp, her face in her hands. A small gift box rested in her lap. Roger couldn’t help noticing that she was about his daughter’s age.

He approached her, watching her cry so hard that her entire body shook. “Are you lost, little girl?”

“Don’t look at me,” she whimpered.

He looked around for any sign of parents or friends. When he found none, he crouched, getting down on her level. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here to help. Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.”

“Please… Please… D-don’t.” The girl shook her head, face still buried in her hands. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t n-notice me.”

“What’s wrong?” the officer asked, looking her over. “Did something happen to you?” Hesitant, wanting to help, he reached out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“What does it take to make you understand?” the girl cried, voice rising. “Don’t! Don’t…” She lowered her hands suddenly. Her eyes were horrible, black and bottomless, sucking in all light. _”Don’t look at me!”_

She pulled the lid off of her gift box, screaming at him. A bright, terrible light shone out from inside, and Roger gasped as it hit him, paralyzing him where he stood. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even call for help as slowly he began to wither—

 

 

Chat Noir paused the video, not needing to see more. He had spent the past hour on this particular rooftop, flipping through Alya’s blog posts on his baton’s browser, reading up on the akunettes. He still wasn’t sure which one was the real Marinette, but he hoped deep in his gut that it wasn’t this one, the one Alya had named Efrayette. Marinette had seemed extremely shy in school, at least when he was around, but she had never come close to crossing into horror film territory.

He looked up, trying to digest everything he had read. The Ladybug he had fought alongside would be mortified by what she was being made to do now.

Even with all of its lights turned off, the Musee du Louvre looked grand and imposing, on the other side of the river, towering high above. On a normal night, even without the lights inside, the translucent pyramids in front of it were shiny with reflected starlight, beautiful. This particular night was cloudy, with storm clouds on the horizon. Even so, he loved the view. It was best to enjoy it while it lasted.

It was incredibly cold, and his suit offered surprisingly little protection once the temperature dropped beyond a certain point. He got to his feet, dropping his phone into the bag slung over his shoulders, and began pacing, blowing on his claws before they could grow stiffer. His slitted eyes scanned the area through the darkness for movement. The rendezvous point and time had been a little ambiguous.

A few minutes passed, and then he spotted her, standing in the street below, digging through her own bag. He crouched down, smirking. She had enjoyed sneaking up on him a lot, lately. He would let her see how she liked it!

 

 

Four minutes later, he was on his back on the street, her knee on his chest, while she twisted his arm. “Okay!” he yelped, struggling. “Uncle, uncle already! You got me!”

“Oh dear,” she said, casually inspecting her nails. “And you _almost_ had me, too. Poor kitty! The bad luck beams haven’t worn off yet, have they?”

They hadn’t. He had been tripping over things all day, clumsy and uncoordinated, and he couldn’t quite blame his injury for all of it. “Let go! I can’t help you if you tear my arm off!” he said, jerking hard against her hold. “How much _protein_ do you eat, lady?”

She smiled and opened her hand, letting him fall flat on the ground. “Next time, don’t let the one with the umbrella hit you. The effect stacks, and it lasts for weeks. It’s not going to be a problem tonight, is it? I can’t have you tripping every alarm in this place.”

“Noted,” he said, rubbing his shoulder ruefully. “I’ll be careful. What, exactly, is it that we’re stealing?”

Volpina lifted her flute-staff, letting a few lilting notes free. When she swung the orange energy up, it crystallized into a small, lumpy red shape, that hovered at eye level, slowly rotating. “This is the Soh Tahn jewel,” she said. “Don’t ask what it means. It was named in a language that doesn’t exist anymore. It’s old. Very old. Older than humans, even.”

Chat Noir blinked at it. “Jewel? It looks like a rock.”

Volpina sighed impatiently. “Don’t believe everything you see in heist movies, dear. Have you ever seen uncut gems before? They look like rocks. If you cut this one up, you’d ruin it—it would lose half of its magical power.”

“Magical power to do what, exactly?” he asked.

Volpina hesitated. “I’m not sure, exactly. It’s just what the old folktales around it say. I don’t believe it’s actually magical.”

“Says the girl possessed by the evil butterfly,” Chat Noir said, “talking to the boy wearing a ring that transforms him into a superpowered cat person.”

“If it could do something cool, someone would have figured it out by now,” Volpina countered. “It’s neat and all, but, like you said, it’s practically a rock.”

“Then why does Papillon want it?” Chat Noir asked, suspicious.

Volpina shrugged. “He’s a fashion designer. He has a flair for the pretty, the rare, and the impractical. Like you, for example. Beyond that, it’s _hard_ to get to it, and he wants to test my dedication.” A smirk. “He doesn’t know that I’m cheating, and enlisting a little help. They call it cat burglary for a reason, right?”

Chat Noir examined the gem, trying to memorize it. “If it’s absolutely necessary. I hate to commit a crime, but… People are more important than things. If it helps us get closer to Marinette…”

“Such a goody-two-claws,” Volpina said, laughing. She swatted at the illusion of the gem, making it disappear. “If it makes you feel better, Boy Scout, it’s the Louvre. It’s full of stolen paintings and artifacts. Believe me, Lila was Italian, she would know. It’s a sore subject.”

“And you’re not?” Chat Noir asked. “Italian, I mean.”

Another shrug. “I guess. But unlike Lila, I enjoy a good heist.” She grinned, baring her teeth at him. “I’m more fun than her, in a lot of ways. A lot.”

“Well…” Chat Noir couldn’t help it. He smiled back. It was infectious. “I do like to show a lady a good time. Shall we get to it, then?”

“Depends,” she said slyly, “on if you can keep up.” She jumped forward suddenly, taking off into a sprint.

Chat Noir’s smile widened into a grin, as he took up the chase.

 

.:|:.

 

The Artist walked along the open streets, drawing as he went. Behind him, defensive walls solidified, topped with barbed wire and mounted with turrets. He did this, every night now, miles of walking and setting up defensive perimeter. Tomorrow, when Papillon’s territory had expanded more, he would have to erase everything he had done tonight, and start over from the beginning, building a slightly longer wall.

Tired, he paused for a moment, drawing a bottle of water into existence. As he drank, the redhead turned to look out at the city beyond, the great walls and towers that Papillon had not yet added to his collection. He could still remember that, once, he had loved to sit for hours and sketch cityscapes like this. Back when he still had a name. Nath… Ne… N… He could never fully remember.

Drawing back then had been fun. This endless rehashing of simple wall shapes, undetailed and in blocky uniform, was not. He had become nothing more than a machine, churning out drawings without any skill or soul in them at all, unnoticed except for when he didn’t churn them out fast enough. He yearned, so badly, for more.

Neth… Nu…

The Artist had felt so much conviction, at first, upon being akumatized. He had been thrilled, to work as a soldier for Papillon, bending his talent for the purposes of the greater good. But… Now, he wondered, what was it that he was so excited about fighting for? He looked back inside the walls, at the part of the city that Papillon controlled. It was being changed, reverse engineered into a state of uniformity, sterile and cold. To his artist’s eyes, it was ugly, and uninteresting to draw. Was this really a world he wanted to see created, to be sketched out on the pages of history? Or was there something else, something better for him to wish for?

He lowered the empty bottle, pausing a moment before erasing it. He had this nagging feeling, like, if he could just remember his _name_ , he would know all the answers.

Nath… Na… N…

…?

 

.:|:.

 

The Louvre had been reduced down to a skeleton crew, given recent events. Just basic, minimum staff remained, and the ones that were still there were overworked and overstressed. The museum had a state of the art security system with an unfathomable amount of money behind it, but still, the weakness was always going to be the human element. In this case, it was how no one noticed the two-man cleaning crew punching in the security code at one of the back entrances, just ten minutes late for the start of their shift.

The real janitors would be found, later, knocked out, tied up, and left in the back of their van.

Chat Noir watched with interest as they passed through the ornate halls of the former palace, looking up at the various paintings from all sorts of different eras, styles, and geographic locations. He had been here often before, sometimes even for photo shoots, in the areas where the flash wouldn’t damage anything. But he had never seen it so empty of crowds before, and besides, one could literally live in the giant museum for months and still find new things to see.

“They’re fakes, you know,” the old man walking beside him said, pushing the cleaning cart. He looked authentic, all grizzled and sagging, stooped in his uniform. But when he looked at Chat Noir, Chat Noir could see the cleverness of Volpina’s gaze staring out from his bearded face. “They weren’t before, but they are now.”

“Really?” Chat Noir asked, his own voice sounding several octaves lower than usual. “How can you tell?”

“Master of illusions and lies and whatnot,” Volpina said, turning the cart to round a corner. “They must be moving the real ones to a more secure location. Looting and vandalism have been such a problem, lately.”

“Huh. Then they’re not valuable,” Chat Noir said, looking around him a second time, trying to spot the difference. He couldn’t tell them apart from the real ones at all. He tried not to let himself feel a pang of remorse, remembering the Marinette situation. “That explains why _you_ don’t have any interest in them, I suppose.”

“Oh, they’re still valuable, even as fakes,” Volpina said. She located the staircase she wanted, and turned the cart in toward what would give them a straight shot to the bottom, where the basements were. “But, you know. Eyes on the prize.”

 

.:|:.

 

Fred Haprele poked his head out of the subway station for a moment, taking a good look around. Then he ducked back inside, exhaling. “Okay, kids,” he said, in the dark and the rubble. This particular section had been half destroyed in a supervillain attack two days before, but it still worked as an impromptu hiding spot. “It’s a half-mile to the military blockade. But it’s all open ground, and we might be spotted. There’s no cover at all. We’re just going to have to run for it.”

Sniffling, of someone who was very overcome with emotions, but was trying hard to smother the sounds.

“It’ll be okay, Mylene,” Ivan said. “I promise! I’ll keep you safe, so don’t worry, okay?”

“I don’t want to go!” Mylene squeaked, burying her face in his chest. “The akumas will get us! I know they will!”

Her father glanced over his shoulder, at the dozens of butterflies fluttering over the area they would need to cross through. He wanted to say that wouldn’t happen, and they would be safe. But he knew there was no guarantee, and he didn’t like having to lie to his daughter.

“Listen, _cherie_ ,” he said softly. “We have to do this. There’s no choice anymore. In another day, the Papillon will have taken over our neighborhood, and then where will we go? If we want to escape, we _have_ to do it now. There is no other option.”

Mylene just began to cry harder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I can’t help it. I’m so sc-scared…”

Ivan wrapped his arms around her, humming her song and softly rocking her. It took a few minutes, but slowly, Mylene’s hyperventilating slowed, and her sobs quieted. Fred smiled at the boy, grateful. Even though Ivan had somewhere that he could go, he had insisted on coming with them, helping to make sure they got out safely.

“I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” Ivan said. “If you want, you can keep your eyes closed. Just hold on, keep running, and we’ll get to the other side, alright?”

“Okay,” Mylene said, sniffling. She took Ivan’s hand with her left, and Fred’s with her right. As they led her up the stairs, she kept her eyes tightly shut, and tried to think of rainbows and sunshine and silly smelly wolves. Running twice as hard to keep up with the taller people holding onto her, she summoned all of her bravery and ran for freedom.

 

.:|:.

 

The security guard looked up from the computer at his station, irritated. “Benoit!” he called. “I already told you. You can’t be down here! You don’t have clearance. You’re going to have to use the bathroom left of the elevator upstairs and—“

“Benoit”, despite being clearly in his sixties, suddenly rose into a flying spin kick, punctuated by the swing of his mop handle to the guard’s face. Surprised before he could even think of reaching for his weapon, the guard slumped to the ground.

“Gently!” Chat Noir cried. “They’re just doing their jobs!”

At the rough contact with the guard, Volpina’s illusion had dissipated. She rolled her eyes, and thwacked Chat Noir, shaking him out of his as well. “What? I didn’t kill him.” She grabbed the man and dragged him over to a computerized doorway, swiping the card around his neck through the machine to the side.   
Then she held him up, opening his eyelid for the iris scanner.

The door beeped and slid open. While museums kept their most aesthetically pleasing treasures up in display cases where the public could see them, even small ones usually had some sort of archives, full of the less glamorous but no less important relics that most people never got to see. The Louvre’s archives were _enormous_ , rooms and rooms filled with shelves, holding boxes. Most of them would be holding things of no interest to Volpina, bits of pottery and bone, papyrus and animal remains, the occasional less-famous painting that had nonetheless played some pivotal role in history once upon a time. Only one of them might contain the Soh Tahn gem.

“Okay,” she said, stepping forward. “We split up, start searching boxes one by one, as quickly as possible. Remember what it looks like?”

“Yeah…”

He sounded disappointed. She turned toward him, frowning. “What? Intimidated? It’s a lot of boxes, but we’ve got some time to work with.”

“When you said ‘jewel heist’, I was expecting more somersaulting over lasers and dangling from the ceiling by a wire,” he said, only half-joking. “I distinctly remember the word ‘fun’ being involved.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little whiskers,” she said, picking a set of shelves to the left. “It’ll still be fun.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, reaching in his bag. “Fun sounds _just_ like unpacking after a move.”

“Come on, trust me!” she said teasingly. “The fun comes later, I promise. You can hold me to—Are you putting gloves on top of your gloves?”

He looked up from the layer of latex snapping into place around his hand. “What? They’re ancient artifacts! The oils and dirt on our hands might damage them.”

“That makes _no sense_ ,” Volpina hissed. “Priorities! And what about your sharp claws? They’ll poke right through!”

“That’s why I’m doubling up,” Chat Noir said, pulling another glove out of his bag. “I’m not going to have the wrath of a bunch of dusty old historians on me just because I got some old pottery dirty. You want a pair? I brought extra.”

“They’re already going to be wrathful,” Volpina said, ears flat. “We’re _robbing_ the _Louvre_. Lord save me from this boy scout!”

Chat Noir chuckled, enjoying seeing her flustered for once. He pulled a glove tight, before playfully snapping it, sending it flying through the air toward her. “I’m having fun already.”

 

.:|:.

 

“Carrots to that pile over there,” Chloe said imperiously, strolling through rows of crates, tarps, and stacked cans. “ _Don’t_ just mix them in with the other tubers. Were you born in a barn? And—you, over there! _Careful_ with those boxes—those are eggs!”

Sabrina made tick marks on the pad of paper holding her list, smiling at Chloe proudly. She was such a natural-born leader. She had never looked worse, nails chipped and scuffed, hair in a sorry state, showing her brown roots, makeup for once minimalist, since anything fancy was in danger of smearing in the heat of the underground parking garage. Her working clothes, though unfashionable overalls, boots, t-shirt, and gloves, were _designer_ overalls, boots, t-shirt and gloves, in a custom yellow and crème. They had settled for rhinestones, since the diamonds kept falling off under the harsh work conditions and getting lost.

For the first couple of weeks of the invasion, they had done none of this. They had barricaded themselves in the mayor’s residence, safely within Chloe’s private suite, watching television and eating sushi and other delicacies. They had been terrified, but it was easy to pretend, in the sheltered, glitzy world of Chloe’s home, that everything was actually just as okay as before. Better, even, because there was no school!

But then Sabrina’s father had been found, barely alive, in such a horrible condition. Sabrina had cried. And Chloe, overnight, had gone through a change. She had spent hours, outside of the bathroom Sabrina had locked herself in, trying to cajole her friend and peon out with clothes, sweets, jewelry, promises, and, when all of that had failed, her last line of defense: money. None of it had worked. Sabrina had stayed inside, no longer able to be comforted by such pretty toys, coping as best she could with the reality that her father might never fully recover, or even wake up. At some point, exhausted, she had fallen asleep.

In the morning, she had reluctantly opened the door, expecting to be chastised by Chloe for being so unreasonable, and selfishly hogging the bathroom. Instead, Chloe had already gone to work. With the mayor’s help, she had single-handedly organized this operation, in one of their spare garages, compiling food stores from various parts of the city and developing a distribution plan to get them, quickly and efficiently, where they were needed most. Chloe was no fighter, and knew better than to try to deal with the Papillon situation directly. But she could lead, and she could scheme. And she was smart enough to realize that Paris had other issues that were soon going to become critical, with winter right around the corner.

Chloe turned away from bossing around a man who had been loading a truck incorrectly, face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, why am I the only one who can do anything right around here? People, listen up! We have got five—count them, five—arrondissements expecting deliveries by sunrise. We are the _only_ source of food for most of these neighborhoods, they’re counting on us, and I will _not_ be embarrassed just because we couldn’t figure out how to load a truck in ten minutes or less! Now hop to it, or else!” She stamped her foot, hard.

All around her, the former wait staff of the Bourgeois hotel scrambled faster to carry out her orders.

“Sabrina!” Chloe snapped. “Where are you with that list? I’m not going to be happy if I find out we’re short on zucchini again just because you weren’t keeping track!”

“Coming, Chloe!” Sabrina rushed toward her, full of purpose.

 

.:|:.

 

Ten minutes into sorting through boxes, they figured out the organization system. From there, it was easy to start narrowing down the field. Volpina found the section where all prehistoric objects were being kept. Chat Noir, the more nimble of the two, scrambled up on the top of the shelves, his bad luck curse only making him knock over boxes twice on the way up. From there, they worked in tandem. He slid boxes down to her, she sorted through them, then pushed them aside when they didn’t have the gem.

His heart leaped when his baton suddenly began ringing, the noise sharp and shrill in the still air of the archives. He scrambled to grab it, to turn off the noise. Nino was calling him, or rather, Nino was calling his normal cellphone, which was forwarding the call.

“Bad timing, buddy,” he hissed, hitting the button to cut off the the ringing. He felt bad for a moment. Nino was probably worried about him, and perhaps it wasn’t good, given his condition, to leave him to that worry. But guards could come in at any moment! He was going to have to call him back later. “Hey,” he called down, reaching for another container. “We’re starting to run out of these up here. We’ve got maybe two or three boxes left?”

Silence. Curious, he poked his head over the edge of the shelves.

Volpina looked up at him. He looked down at her. The pink mask of light in front of her eyes no doubt was looking at them both.

Great. Just great.

“Chat Noir,” she said slowly, skillfully inserting surprise and indignation into her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Sink or swim. He grinned, forcefully cocky. “I could ask you the same thing, Volpina. Take a wrong turn at the gift shop?”

_Hi, Father,_ he thought to himself.

She smirked, then suddenly pointed her staff at him. “What can I say? What I want wasn’t being sold in there. Now scram before I get the spray bottle. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, but history concerns us all.” Valuable, rare, centuries-old history, sitting out in boxes all around them, most of it very, very fragile! “Come on, Volpina, be reasonable! I’ve got the entire security system on my side. You don’t have a chance at taking meow-t.”

“We’ll see,” she snarled, lifting her flute. She blew one long note, then struck the ground. Orange smoke, formless but thick, billowed out and filled the room.

Suppressing a cough, he jumped down, pulling out his own baton. He couldn’t see a thing, Volpina moved quietly, and, thanks to the smoke, _everything_ smelled like her. He moved through the room, guarded, searching through the cloudy mess for any sign of her. Something crunched as he accidentally stepped on it, and he cringed in guilt.

Two taps, to his left. A warning, the best one they could afford. He braced moments before she struck, and then they were fighting, staff striking baton, claws swiping at skin. They fought viciously, but only for a second, and then she was gone again.

Somewhere, an alarm sounded. They had been loud, and set off a lot of smoke. Now, as a result, security knew they were here. Chat Noir swore viciously inside of his head as he moved forward to continue wasting his time on a fight.

 

.:|:.

 

Max fumbled with the heavy contraption in his hands, staring up resolutely at the sky above. It looked like an oversized radar gun attached to a satellite dish, in part because it had been built largely from those things, along with other salvaged materials. A cord connected it to a bulky battery pack strapped to his back.

Above him, Heartbreaker slowly flapped his great wings, treading air with a bored expression. “Back for more punishment, nerd?”

“Good evening, Kim,” Max said cordially, reaching up to adjust his thick glasses. “How are you tonight? It seems like your wing is healing well, since last time. It wasn’t sprained too badly from my electro-nets, then?”

Heartbreaker scoffed. “You and your little gadgets, night after night. When will you learn? Against my superpowers and magic arrows, you’ll never stand a chance.”

“Hmm, yes, magic arrows.” Max reached into his pocket, and held up a pad of paper, briefly, for Heartbreaker to see. “I’ve taken extensive notes. ‘Magic’. Yet still made up of chemicals, like everything else in the universe. Still subject to gravity, and other laws of physics. Tangible, observable, testable. True, there are properties of it that I haven’t been able to figure out, yet. But if science applies, then I can find a way to compensate.” He patted the large electronic gun. “I am no superhero, just an ordinary human being. But I have always believed that the human mind, properly applied, provides the greatest superpower of all.”

“You’re boring me with your big words,” Heartbreaker said, twirling an arrow with one hand. “And you’re annoying me. You’re weak and pathetic, a little shrimp! You always have been. It’s really stupid that you think you can stand up against me!”

“You’re absolutely right,” Max said, voice rising slightly. “I am weak, and even pathetic. I admit it. From the very beginning, ever since we were little, you’ve had to protect me from bullies. I wanted to make it up to you, for so long, but what could I do? I was never going to be as big or as strong as you.”  
He looked down at the device he had built instead of sleeping the night before, proud. “At first, when this all started, I was scared. I hid out in my room for days, and buried myself in my games. I’ve always wanted to be a hero, to be the one who stops bullies, like you. But outside of a video game, I could never do it. …But then, I realized. How Papillon is controlling you, what he’s doing to you… Could there be a bigger bully, in all of Paris, in all of the world?”

“Yeah, and you’re about to meet him,” Heartbreaker said, cracking his knuckles. “I’ve beat you up before when you’ve come to me like this, and I’ll do it again. None of your little inventions _work_ , four eyes. You’ve tried dozens against me!”

“No, just nine,” Max said patiently. “’Dozens’ would be twenty-four or more.”

“You know what?!” Heartbreaker slid his bow off of his back suddenly, quickly, expertly nocking an arrow. “I’m just going to shoot you. I don’t know what your obsession is with me, but once I get you, you’ll hate me. And then maybe you’ll shut up and just fight me already!”

Max smiled. No he wouldn’t. His older cousin was a chemist, and together, working with an arrow Max had kept from a previous fight, they had managed to isolate the properties that caused people to go into a frenzy when struck. It was just emotions involved, after all, and emotions were hormones and other chemicals, firing in the brain. Under his clothes, there was a patch on his skin, with an opposite combination of chemicals stored and waiting. If he was struck, and the patch determined certain combinations of chemicals beginning to flare up in him, the patch would release its own barrage of cancelling chemicals, ones that would kick in quickly and fight down the ones being involuntarily introduced. Science trumps magic. Knowledge trumps fear.

No need to tell him that, though. He lifted his gun, ready. Maybe it would work tonight, or maybe it would be another failure, and in the morning, he would be back to the drawing board. The comforting thing was, even if he failed, he would make some progress. More observations to record, more small bits of success to pour into ever-evolving designs and experiments. He would be back, night after night, for as long as it took until he found something that worked. He would free his friend, and the creativity and rationality of his mind would be his superpower.

Not a hero, but an ordinary man, he pulled the trigger and fired the first vibration-based blast at his friend above.

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir glanced cautiously around a corner, ready to strike at the first sight of orange. He had to put up a convincing act of trying to stop the robbery, and he knew she wasn’t afraid to hit hard to make their fight look real. His growing experience with working with her was making him nervous, though, anticipating being suddenly jumped from the shadows, from whatever place he least expected it. He moved into another room packed with shelves, every sense on alert.

Suddenly, he picked up her scent, and heard rustling. He pressed himself up against the nearest shelf, took a breath, and leaped out, baton raised.

“Hey.” Volpina waved at him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She tapped the side of her face. No pink mask.

Chat Noir exhaled loudly, letting his baton and shoulders slump. “I thought he was never going to leave.”

“It’s my fault,” she said, twisting her weapon in her hands in agitation. “It’s a mission he would care about. I should have anticipated he would check in at least once. Good news, though.” She smiled. “He bought it.”

“Are you sure?” Chat Noir asked.

“Pretty sure! He even told me to ignore you and your crimebusting, and focus on getting the gem. I think he was pleased.”

Chat Noir pulled a face. “My father, pleased. What do you know? There’s a first time for everything.” He looked around. “We need to hurry. Security knows we’re here, and—“

“Already ran into them.” Volpina hopped up, and reached around the corner, pulling a limp figure into view from where she had stashed it behind the shelf.

Chat Noir looked down at the unconscious museum guard in disbelief, taking in the bruises and swollen eye. “Volpina! What did you _do_?”

“Interrogated him,” Volpina replied, reaching down to swipe the man’s ID card. “You were taking kind of long to catch up, so—“

“We need to do this _without_ attacking civilians,” Chat Noir said. “I’m serious! If you want my help, you’ve got to find other ways to do things.”

“You’re the one who’s in a hurry,” Volpina said, frowning at him. “If I hadn’t done it, then we would have spent a lot more time looking through these boxes! Thanks to this guy, now I know where the jewel really is, we can grab it and go home, and this guy will be _fine_ in the morning. Okay?”

“Where is it?”

“In a Monsieur Kubdel’s office,” she said, standing and beginning to walk, quickly. “Along with everything else the museum doesn’t think it can afford to lose.”

Kubdel, Kubdel… Why did that name sound familiar? Chat Noir ran to catch up.

 

.:|:.

 

_…In other reports from military personnel, situated outside the eastern part of the city, funding was approved today for further scientific experiments, regarding the reaction of the creatures known as akumas to electromagnetic fields supplemented by a-- ___

__The radio faded out for a moment. When it came back, it came back with high-pitched static shrieking, echoing metallically off of the walls of the little bakery._ _

__Tom Dupain reached up, turning the dial until it clicked off._ _

__“Oh, please, turn it back on, Honey,” Sabine said, focused on applying icing to the tops of a tray of cookies. For the most part, sugar shortages meant that they had to avoid making luxury pastries like these, instead of more filling types of bread. But the Chamack’s little girl, Manon, was going to try to celebrate a birthday tomorrow, and Sabine had always had a weakness for children. “What if there’s something in the news? I want to hear.”_ _

__Tom hesitated, looking down at her. “I don’t know if it’s good, to leave it on constantly like this. I think it’s making you sad.”_ _

__“It’ll make me more sad to stay here waiting, without any news at all,” Sabine pointed out. “It would drive me crazy, thinking that maybe something was mentioned, and I didn’t hear it.”_ _

__Tom sighed, and regarded the radio. She was probably right. And, to be honest, he mostly felt the same way himself. Reluctantly, he reached up, turning the dial again._ _

__

__.:|:._ _

__

__The door was a heavy one, locked, with layers of steel and other metals. What they were looking at looked less like an office and more like a vault. Chat Noir placed a hand on it, guessing that kicking it down wasn’t going to be an option. “Okay,” he said. “Cata—“_ _

__“Hold on,” Volpina said. “There’s an admin password.” She knelt beside the key pad, punching in a very long string of digits._ _

__“Did you get that from the security guard?” he asked._ _

__“No,” she said, hitting a few more digits before pressing the pound key._ _

__“Then,” he said, as the door opened, “from where?”_ _

__“She got it from my son,” a voice said from inside, stern but calm. “I imagine that’s where you got most of your plans from, wasn’t it? Jalil knew this museum like his own bedroom.”_ _

__The man sat behind his desk, barricaded by computer monitors. In every spare inch of his office, packages had been packed in, all wrapped tightly or locked in boxes. Although he sat calmly, sipping from a cup of tea, something in the way he held his shoulders suggested a willingness to fight before he let them touch one of them._ _

__“Are you Monsieur Kubdel?” Chat Noir asked, sliding his weapon into its holster behind his back. He wanted to deescalate things, as much as possible, if he could. “We could really use a favor from you. I’m—“_ _

__“A kwami host who is using his powers for an evil act,” Kubdel said, lifting an eyebrow. “Now wasn’t that frowned upon, among your people?”_ _

__Chat Noir’s eyes widened. “You know about kwamis?”_ _

__“A common error is assuming that you are the only one with a history that goes back any distance,” Kubdel said. He reached up, adjusting the thin wire glasses upon his face, looking tired. “My own family’s legacy, though completely separate from that of the kwamis, has intertwined upon occasion. Believe it or not, there are those others of us who are not completely unaware of events happening underneath the main channel of human history.” He gave Chat Noir a sad look. “I have always thought my legacy carried a certain responsibility with it. It appears you do not feel the same way.”_ _

__Chat Noir shook his head. “Monsieur Kubdel, we need to talk to you. There is something here that we need. If we can’t get it, what will happen next is—“_ _

__“I’m well aware,” Kubdel said, reluctantly lowering his cup of tea. “It seems I am about to join the ranks of historians, throughout the ages, who have risked their lives to protect the common cultural and historical collateral of their people. And you, in return, are about to learn the reckless, underestimated bravery of those with a past to protect.”_ _

__“No, we don’t want to—“_ _

__Volpina suddenly reached across the desk, grabbing the man by his lilac scarf, pulling it tight. “The jewel of Soh Tahn,” she growled, fangs bared. “We want it. You’ll give it to us.”_ _

__Forced to stand, Kubdel simply smiled at her. “You’ll do what you must, I suppose.”_ _

__“Volpina!” Chat Noir yelled. “Stop it! We are _not_ going to hurt him!”_ _

__“We’ll never find the jewel if we don’t,” she shot back, angry. “Do you want that? Do you want to have come all this way, just to not even get what we came for?!”_ _

__“Put him _down_ , Volpina,” Chat Noir said, hand straying toward his baton. “I’m warning you.”_ _

__“Rrrragh!” She threw Kubdel back at his chair. “Fine!” she said, enraged. She reached over, grabbing the nearest painting, wrapped in a protective layer of cloth. “These are in here because you like them so much, right? So much that you didn’t trust them to be put anywhere else! You want to defend history so badly?” She snatched a pair of scissors off of his desk, opening them and pointing the blades at it. “Then you’d better start! Lose just the Soh Tahn jewel, or lose every item in this office first, and _then _lose the jewel anyways!”___ _

____Chat Noir reached out, putting his hand on her arm. While she had been raging, he had been watching M. Kubdel. During Volpina’s threats, his eyes had flicked repeatedly toward the security monitors on his desk. Chat Noir watched them for a second, trying to figure out why._ _ _ _

____On one of the lower left-hang screens, something blurred. In grayscale, Alix Kubdel raced through a hallway in the Louvre galleries above, past a security camera, skating as fast as she possibly could. A small bag was clutched in one hand as she headed for a back exit._ _ _ _

____“The jewel was never in here, was it?” he said suddenly. “This was a red herring. You were stalling for time…” He turned, beginning to run. “Volpina! Follow me!”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Reflekta had them cornered. She moved through the street, laughing wildly as she fired blast after blast at the people she had caught outside after dark, surrounded by akumas. There were going to be so many of her around, now! This entire block of houses, full of people, that would be just like her. How wonderful. How perfect!_ _ _ _

____“Juleka?”_ _ _ _

____A familiar voice, on the verge of tears. Reflekta whirled around, mirror lifted and ready to fire a beam._ _ _ _

____Oversized blue eyes looked up at her, the girl shivering in the cold. “I’ve been looking for you, for so long,” Rose said, reaching out for her. “I was so worried! You get so sad sometimes, and I didn’t want you to be sad.”_ _ _ _

____Reflekta’s fist tightened, underneath the bracelet. She had orders to follow. And there was a need, programmed deep into her very being, to fire at anything that didn’t look like her face. But… Rose! This was Rose. She could remember, from her life before._ _ _ _

____Rose looked around at the pink-clad forms fleeing in every direction. “Now they’re sad. Why are you doing this to them?”_ _ _ _

____Reflekta lowered her arm, gritting her teeth. She couldn’t do it. Even though she _needed_ to… Rose’s face was the one face she didn’t want to remove from this world. “They notice me now,” she said softly. “Every morning, they will look in the mirror, and I will be remembered for once! I’m so tired of always being forgotten, Rose…”_ _ _ _

____“That’s not true,” Rose said fervently, grabbing onto Reflekta’s hands. “I remember you! I’ve remembered you every day since you left! We’ve been friends since forever. When have I ever not noticed you?”_ _ _ _

____“Every day!” Reflekta cried, anguished. “Every single day, while we sat together in class!”_ _ _ _

____Rose paused, looking up at her, confused._ _ _ _

____Reflekta gripped Rose’s hands tightly, struggling, as always, to put her feelings into words. “I loved you,” she said softly, the memories flooding back now. “ _So_ much, and you didn’t feel the same way. So I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to ruin things, but every day, I sat next to you, and you didn’t notice, and I _wanted…!_ ”_ _ _ _

____Rose covered her mouth with her hands, surprised. She had felt that way, all along? All those times she had said nothing, and watched Rose, with that loving, longing look in her eyes, while Rose babbled on about cushions or scrapbooking or boys she liked…_ _ _ _

____She looked up. Reflekta was crying, unable to meet her eyes._ _ _ _

____Rose smiled. “There there,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around her dearest friend. She leaned her head against her chest, closing her eyes. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”_ _ _ _

____The pink-clad villainess shuddered against her. After a moment, she felt Reflekta’s arms hug her back._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Chat Noir took the lead, bounding forward through the streets, struggling to catch up. Alix’s scent was strong, scattered on the pavement in erratic bits here and there. She was skating hard, working up a sweat. Rain was beginning to fall, though, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it began to interfere with his scent tracking. If he didn’t end this soon, they would lose her!_ _ _ _

____“What do we do?” Volpina gasped, racing just a few steps behind him, breathing ragged. “She’s fast! Maybe faster than us. If she gets away with that jewel…!”_ _ _ _

____“She’s faster, with skates,” Chat Noir said, hooking a left around a sharp corner. “But we have more endurance. If we keep going like this, she’ll tire out and have to slow down.” It felt like cheating, relying on his superpowered endurance against a girl armed with nothing but skates and reckless determination. But he had no choice. Marinette was depending on this!_ _ _ _

____The road dropped down ahead, a steep decline. That would be good for Alix—she’d pick up a burst of speed. He started down it, then skid to a stop._ _ _ _

____Her scent ducked down an alley to the right, ignoring the downward slope ahead. She had anticipated that he’d follow it, as the most obvious path for her to follow, and had gone this way instead. Clever! He threw himself forward, through the short path between buildings, out onto the main street on the other side._ _ _ _

____A flash, in the corner of his vision, of green skates and pink hair. He was catching up! “Alix!” he yelled, racing after her. “Slow down! I can explain!”_ _ _ _

____She ignored him, leaning forward into a curve ahead._ _ _ _

____He tailed her, trying to run on the inside track of each bend in the road, to close the distance. She was breathing heavily, her heartbeat running at a dangerous rate in his ears. He gritted his teeth, focused on her. Where was Volpina? He has lost her, somewhere behind._ _ _ _

____A motorcycle engine, roared, somewhere far behind him, being turned on. Oh. Suddenly he understood exactly where Volpina had gone to._ _ _ _

____He couldn’t guarantee what would happen if Volpina got to his classmate first. It had to be him. Chest throbbing with pain, he stretched out his strides, clawing at the pavement, desperate, desperate—_ _ _ _

____Alix gasped. She had thought she was in familiar territory, but suddenly, ahead of her, she was confronted with an unexpected steep flight of stairs going up, and no way around it. She slowed, just a little bit, heart rate spiking as she tried to come up with a plan before she hit the bottom of them._ _ _ _

____Chat Noir understood immediately. He snapped his arm back, grabbed his baton, and threw it with all of his might._ _ _ _

____Alix was moving too fast to completely slow down. She pulled her arms up in front of her, shielding herself. But she crashed right through Volpina’s stair illusion, orange smoke blinding her for a moment. Her skates tripped over the baton lying on the road, and she went flying._ _ _ _

____Chat Noir caught up with her in moments. He scooped up the bag, opening it quickly to make sure the target was inside. Sure enough, he saw the lumpy red stone, just as Volpina had shown him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned to check on Alix._ _ _ _

____She lay on her stomach, elbows skinned and bleeding, the wind knocked out of her. Angry, she scrubbed at her eyes, dirt smeared across her face._ _ _ _

____“Alix…” Chat Noir moved toward her, concerned. “Are you okay? Agh, I should have been more careful. Is anything brok—“_ _ _ _

____“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, glaring at him. “I hate you!”_ _ _ _

____His heart stopped for a moment, at the look in her eyes. Pure loathing and disgust looked back at him._ _ _ _

____“Alix,” he said. “It’s okay! I’m Chat Noir. I had to chase you, but you know I was just trying to—“_ _ _ _

____“I don’t _care_ ,” she spat. “Whatever you’re doing, Ladybug will stop you!”_ _ _ _

____He flinched. She thought he had turned supervillain._ _ _ _

____There was no explaining this. He had run her down, stolen something her father had probably begged her to keep safe. She was also probably at least a little hurt from the fall. These were not the actions of a hero. No matter what the results, he could never feel proud of this, never learn to sweep away the way she was looking at him._ _ _ _

____The motorcycle screeched as Volpina swerved it through from a side street, spinning it to a rough park four yards away. “Chat Noir,” she said urgently. “Police are on the way.”_ _ _ _

____He could hear the sirens in the distance. There weren’t many police left. But the ones that remained were furiously dedicated, willing to sacrifice almost anything to uphold what little peace remained. If they stayed here, there would be a fight. He gave Alix one more hesitant glance, backing away. Then he turned, ran, and jumped on the back of the stolen motorcycle. Volpina revved the engine hard, and they peeled away, leaving his former friend laying alone in the street._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“This is Nadja Chamack, reporting live,” the reporter said, looking intently into the camera. “We’re here on the street outside, where police say a live robbery is being reported somewhere within the building at this very minute! Now, we don’t have much information for the moment, but—Look! Over there!” She turned, suddenly, pointing enthusiastically at a window above. In clear view of the camera, first a girl in a fox outfit, then a boy in a black cat one, had leaped out and began running away down the street._ _ _ _

____Alya lifted the remote, pausing on that image. She rewinded, playing it over her television screen for the third time in a row. No mistaking it. Because of movement, the fox girl looked blurry. But the boy in the catsuit was clear and unmistakeable, and she could even see his face, if she paused at a certain frame._ _ _ _

____“You might as well send it.” Nino, sitting in a chair on the other side of the living room. He was staring off into space, slumped. “If you don’t, someone else will instead, right?”_ _ _ _

____He was talking about her laptop. She glanced over at the coffee table where it sat, a drafted blog post pulled up. _Hero to Villain? The Connection Between Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste_ , spelled out in big, bold letters as the title at the top of the screen. The mouse had been hovering over the send button for two hours now, though she hadn’t quite gone through with clicking yet. Something had been holding her back, some gut instinct that made her hesitate._ _ _ _

____But Nino was right. It didn’t get more blatant than what was on the television, right in front of her, probably being broadcast over most of Paris right now. “Sorry,” she said, clicking. “I hate to say I told you so, but…”_ _ _ _

____Nino shrugged, despondent, not looking at her. He reached up after a moment, poking at something in the air. “Alya? Can you see this?”_ _ _ _

____She glanced away from her laptop. “See what? The lamp?”_ _ _ _

____“No. I didn’t think so.” A strange dread was in his voice. He stood, suddenly. “Excuse me.”_ _ _ _

____“Where are you going?” she asked._ _ _ _

____“Down to the restaurant,” he said. “I’ll be back.”_ _ _ _

____She watched him go, worried. He had believed in Adrien so fully and trustingly. She considered, then decided to let him go, to give him a little time to himself to process things. Instead, she turned back to the blog, and set to work drafting the next entry._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____All over Paris, the signal was getting out. Even in the farthest reaches, over boundaries and blockades, news was spreading, among a populace already desperately starved for news._ _ _ _

____The Artist paused in the middle of drawing his walls, as an alert popped up on his tablet. He opened it, glancing over the report. It bothered him, in a way that he couldn’t fully process. Even the supposedly purest of heroes could fall eventually, it seemed. There were ideals, and there was reality. It was nice to dream of better things, things worth fighting for, but in the face of practicality, and what had to happen…_ _ _ _

____There was no need to keep dreaming. His name was the Artist. That was all. He resumed drawing walls._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Mylene touched the sterile white walls of their cell, blinking in the harsh lights. The military had found them almost immediately at the blockade, and taken them into custody. They would be staying here for a while, in quarantine, while the soldiers observed them to make absolutely sure they weren’t infected by akumas._ _ _ _

____But it hardly mattered, to her. They had even let her stay in the same cell as Ivan and her father! The facility was clean, and full of warm food, and _safe_ …_ _ _ _

____“Mylene,” Ivan called, softly. “Come see this.”_ _ _ _

____She went to join the other two, by the television that had been set up inside the little white box. A news broadcast was playing, Nadja Chamakh pointing in excitement at the figures jumping out of the museum._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Chloe was silent, for a long moment, looking at Sabrina’s phone. She had already read the police report that a family friend had sent to Sabrina. Her hands shook as she read Alya’s blog post now, trying to understand._ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry,” Sabrina said softly. “I know you’re busy. But I saw it, and I thought you should see it, before…”_ _ _ _

____Chloe lowered the phone to her lap. Stunned, she looked around the parking garage, at the small, ragtag group of people working so hard to secure the produce loaded into the different trucks._ _ _ _

____“…Sabrina.” She reached up, unclasping the locket she had been wearing around her neck. “You’re riding out on Truck 13, right? See that, when you cross over the river, you throw this in.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you sure?” Sabrina gasped, taking the heart-shaped jewelry. She opened it, looking at Adrien’s picture inside. “You’ve had this since you were little, right?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh please, as if I’d want to continue to wear that garish trash,” Chloe said, standing. She picked up Sabrina’s list, going over it, already making a new mental list of types of food they would need to procure for the next night’s trip. “If he wants to be out there, hurting people and stealing those things, he can just go knock himself out! I could never have a crush on someone so evil and selfish as that. I mean, really, who does he think that he is?”_ _ _ _

____Sabrina smiled at her friend. “You’re right, Chloe. He’s nowhere near as great as you are. You’re too good for him anyways!”_ _ _ _

____“Naturally,” Chloe said, with a haughty smile. “Now, we need a new source for potatoes…”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Hey, Kim?”_ _ _ _

____They lay in the street, under steady sheets of drizzle, too weak at the moment to get up and move. They had both taken their fair share of beatings in the fight moments before._ _ _ _

____Kim groaned, letting the broken fragments of a piece of jewelry slide out of his hand. Max had been so clever, with that energy-seeking micro-explosive. He was so impressed… “Yeah, bro?”_ _ _ _

____Max held up a capsule to the light. It had layers and layers of lead inside, suspended in a vacuum, so he couldn’t see the akuma trapped inside. But he knew it was in there. Once he had the strength to stand, they would walk home, and he would bury it in cement. “My phone is going off. It’s there, by your head…”_ _ _ _

____Kim, exhausted, pawed at the pavement around him, until his hand touched the device. “Here you go.”_ _ _ _

____Max glanced at it, and sighed. “…Never mind. I can’t read it, anyways.” Heartbreaker had broken his glasses._ _ _ _

____“Then I will,” Kim said. It was the least he could do. He owed his best friend his life. He lifted it, wiping rain water out of his eyes. It was a text from Max’s cousin, all caps, something about Chat Noir. Curious, he clicked on the link to the news article that had been included._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The radio crackled and hissed, before Tom managed to steady the signal again. The announcer’s voice was coming through, clearly, speculating on what had happened at the Louvre. He listened for a moment, beyond confused. Just an hour before, Chat Noir had been mentioned on the same station as a hero, as the program hosts interviewed an assortment of people he had saved from various disasters over the previous weeks. What was this? Some sort of trick?_ _ _ _

____“Honey.” Sabine’s voice was very small. “I think I’m going to bed now. I’m very tired.”_ _ _ _

____Tom leaned his head against the wall, tired himself, wondering when anything would begin to go right in this city again._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The same radio broadcast played in the street, some distance away, trickling out of a shop whose occupants had been chased out hours before. It diffused out into the surrounding area, half-listened to by Reflekta and Princess Fragrance, where they stood in the street, still holding each other._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Papillon, high in his observatory above the streets of Paris, watched the situation unfolding through the eyes of his followers. He had been distracted, at the critical moments, and he still didn’t understand exactly what had happened in the museum. But he had the gist of it, he thought. Things had gotten confused, Volpina had probably pulled off a clever trick, and now, Chat Noir was being blamed for the theft even more than she was. More and more of the media, and the common people listening to them, were becoming convinced that Chat Noir was on _his_ side, some sort of double agent somehow. Feelings of betrayal and distrust and fear would spread, and his akumas would feast. Beyond pleased, he switched between viewpoint after viewpoint, knowing that soon his son would be forced to come home._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The restaurant was pitch black, on the ground floor, all windows boarded up and lights turned off. Nino didn’t care. He had shut himself into a small cupboard in the back, curled up in the bottom below the shelves._ _ _ _

____If it was dark, he couldn’t see the bubbles, crowding in from every direction. His music blared in his ears, volume as high as it could possibly go. He leaned into it, pressing the headphones desperately to his head, clinging to them with everything he had to shut out the slowly growing whispers._ _ _ _

____They weren’t working. He curled in tighter, shuddering, as the dark pressed in tight around him._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____.:|:._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Chat Noir and Volpina crouched on one of the flying buttresses of the cathedral of Notre Dame, watching police lights flash in the city streets far, far below. It had begun to rain, a cold, freezing drizzle that weighed him down and chilled him even with the protection of his suit. He gripped the carved stone, trying not to slide off, his teeth chattering._ _ _ _

____Volpina, higher up, held her hand out to him. He took it, letting her pull him up, toward one of the alcoves recessed into the giant walls above.  
When they were under the shelter of an overhang, they stood in silence for a moment, watching the rain fall._ _ _ _

____“Well?” Volpina said at last, giving him a sly sideways smile. “Do you have something for me?”_ _ _ _

____He reached into Alix’s bag, pulling out the lump of jewel, as big as his fist. He held it up for her to see for a moment, then pressed it into her hand. “Here’s hoping,” he said. “Do you really think this will work?”_ _ _ _

____“If it does, it will all be worth it,” Volpina said, turning it over in her hands, making absolutely sure it was the authentic Soh Tahn. “At the very least, Papillon did promise. You can say a lot of things about the guy, but he does tend to keep his promises.” She tilted her head, watching him. “I trusted you, and you didn’t let me down. So now it’s your turn to trust me, right? I’ll get to Marinette for you.”_ _ _ _

____He shook his hair out, wringing water droplets from the messy blondeness. “I know you will. Thank you.” He smiled at her. “We make a pretty good team, huh?”_ _ _ _

____“The best team,” she said, smiling back wistfully. “Well? Did you have fun?”_ _ _ _

____“Hm. Not really, I guess,” Chat Noir said. He stepped toward the edge, looking down at the drop that plummeted so, so far below. Adrien often got vertigo, at heights like this. Even as Chat Noir, this high up in the air was a little dizzying. “I can see why you like it, I guess, but for me… It bothers me, you know?”_ _ _ _

____“I guess it would,” Volpina said. “Still can’t shake the inner Boy Scout, huh?”_ _ _ _

____He sighed. “I’m being silly, I know. We had to do this. It might get us Ladybug, and once she’s back, we can finally take down Papillon. Still, it felt…”_ _ _ _

____“Poor, poor kitty,” she purred, moving behind him. “If I give you your reward, will you feel better?”_ _ _ _

____“What reward?” he asked, turning. “You didn’t steal something else, did you?”_ _ _ _

____“Not that you know of,” she said, stepping close. “But I did promise you the fun would come later. I, too, keep my promises.”_ _ _ _

____“What do you me-mff.” Suddenly, her lips were on his, warm and intent. Chat Noir stiffened as she pressed against him. For a moment they stood there, the rain pounding hard on all sides._ _ _ _

____Finally, she pulled away. She frowned, looking up at him. “…No?”_ _ _ _

____He looked at her, conflicted. Then sighed. “Lila…”_ _ _ _

____“ _Volpina_ ,” she said, eyes hardening slightly._ _ _ _

____“I, uh… I appreciate it. I really do.”_ _ _ _

____“But?”_ _ _ _

____He averted his eyes, looking out at the skyline, sad. “Ladybug…”_ _ _ _

____“Her? Really?” A hint of anger. “Why? After all this time, why is it still her?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s always been her,” he said softly. “That hasn’t changed. Look, I’m sorry—“_ _ _ _

____“She only likes Adrien!” Volpina protested, an unusual vulnerability showing in the catch of her voice. “She doesn’t care anything at all about Chat Noir! I like _both_ of you! I always have!”_ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry!” he said again. “You’re great, you really are! I just… I can’t help it. I still…” Still saw her every time he closed his eyes, the look on her face as he’d run away, leaving her with the Gorilla. He took a breath. “It’s not you, it’s me who—“_ _ _ _

____“Don’t.” She turned away, blinking hard and fast. “I don’t want to hear it. Just… Just forget it. This is stupid anyways!” She clutched the jewel suddenly, and jumped down, landing on a flying buttress and beginning to run along it, toward the ground._ _ _ _

____He watched her go, feeling like trash. For a long time, he stayed there, freezing, waiting for the rain to stop. When it began to turn into sleet, he accepted that things weren’t going to get better. He reluctantly climbed down, preparing for a long, wet walk home._ _ _ _

____He dangled from a final windowsill at the bottom, six feet off the ground, and let himself drop. Somehow, despite trying to aim, he landed straight in a puddle. Cursed bad luck. Mud splashed up around him, and he held his arms out away from himself, dripping, freezing, gasping for breath._ _ _ _

____“Oh my. What a miserable-looking creature.”_ _ _ _

____He glanced up. Beneath a large black umbrella, a short Chinese man stood, wearing a Hawaiian-print shirt. He smiled kindly at Chat Noir, and held out his umbrella, offering Chat Noir a place beneath it._ _ _ _

____“Will you walk with me for a ways?” he asked. “I think, for you and I, a serious talk is long overdue.”_ _ _ _


	10. Part 10

Adrien watched, intrigued, the two kwamis sitting on the low Chinese table. Plagg had been moved to tears to be presented with an entire carton of camembert, and was now eating his way through it, as happy as Adrien had ever seen him. The green turtle kwami, the one who had introduced himself as Wayzz, was sitting on top of a deck of playing cards, patiently asking Plagg questions about what had happened in the last few weeks. Then, just as patiently, asking them again every time the answer came out garbled beneath mouthfuls of cheese.

He had been given a towel upon entering the little dwelling at the back of the massage parlor, and he adjusted it around his shoulders now, slowly starting to warm up. The room around him was decorated in a simplistic, traditionalist Asian aesthetic, with belongings sparse and functional, all clean lines and minimalist design. It was odd, to Adrien’s eyes, when he was used to the oversized grandeur of his own mansion, or the cheerful clutter of Alya’s house, or the fullness and warmth of Marinette’s. He had never seen a house with so little in it. If he had to, Adrien thought the old Chinese man could probably pack almost everything here into one single suitcase, probably in ten minutes or less.

“Here.” The man called Fu bent down beside Adrien, placing a cup in front of him. At the bottom of it, tea leaves rested, along with some sort of powdered herbs. Fu lifted a tea kettle, pouring hot water over them.

“Thank you,” Adrien said, in Mandarin Chinese. “It looks like Oolong?”

“My own recipe,” Fu replied, also in Mandarin. “It’ll help with the pain.”

Adrien had found an oversized gray t-shirt, the day before, to cover the black-veined hole in his chest. He briefly wondered how the old man knew about the injury. But then, after he had detransformed, it had taken him a few moments to adjust to the return of the pain, so that he could walk straight. Maybe he hadn’t hidden it as well as he thought.

He watched his tea brew, frowning. “Can I ask you something?”

“Please do,” Fu said, moving to the other side of the table. He began preparing his own tea, combining tea leaves and slightly different herbs.

“That book, over on the shelf there,” Adrien said. “I noticed it when I came in. I’m sure—it’s the same one that was in my father’s house, before it went missing.” He glanced at the turtle bracelet on Fu’s wrist, remembering a page with a green-themed warrior upon it, a giant shell upon his back. “Can I ask how you came to have it?”

“Your Chinese is very good, if a little formal,” Fu said, smiling. He eased himself onto a floor cushion, across the table from Adrien, with a sigh. “Simple enough. Ladybug brought it to me, about a month ago. There’s a script in it that not many people know anymore, that she wanted me to decode.”

“Really?” Adrien asked, instantly more invested in the conversation. “Ladybug was here? Then… What was in it? What did you two talk about?”

Fu chuckled to himself, pouring water over his own leaves. “Ask me again in five or six months. Maybe, then, I’ll have an answer for you.”

Adrien studied the old man, trying to figure him out. Another miraculous holder… That made four, didn’t it? His ring. Ladybug’s earrings. If he had seen right, his father’s pendant. And now, presumably, the green bracelet Fu was wearing. What were his powers? Could he help them fight against Papillon? Maybe he could—

“You really upset Monsieur Kubdel, you know.”

Instant shame and guilt. “You know him?”

“We’re acquaintenced,” Fu replied, with an amused expression. “Circumstances have caused us to run into each other, from time to time. Very different world views, quite a lot we disagree on, but… We’re not enemies, or anything, and we have worked together in the past. As soon as you left his office, he called me, quite furious! Now what is it that you were trying to do, with something like the jewel of Zou Dan?”

“Zou Dan?” Adrien asked. “You mean Soh Tahn?”

“Oh? Is that what the French call it?” Fu shrugged. “Every culture that is aware of it pronounces it slightly different, I think. Where I am from, it is almost always ‘Zou Dan’.”

“What does that mean?” Adrien asked. The tonal usage was all off, throwing off Adrien’s grasp of Mandarin. He kept trying to mentally correct it, to come up with hanzi characters that could fit it. Walking alone? Something about eggs?

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Fu replied. “The mouth that originally named it was not a human mouth, so now everyone in different countries must do their best to make the sound anyways. The ones that try, anyways. In a lot of the newer languages, they give up and just call it ‘miraculous ore’.”

“Miraculous,” Adrien echoed.

Fu smiled. Tapped his bracelet, then pointed toward the ring on Adrien’s finger. “The same material our miraculouses were made from, thousands of years ago. There used to be much more of it, but on earth, at least, it’s quite rare.”

Adrien glanced down at his ring, trying to connect it to the lumpy red rock he had held just hours ago. “Thousands of years?” he asked, touching what felt like, to him, smooth metal. “Plagg is that old?”

Plagg looked up at the mention of his name, mouth half-full of camembert.

“Oh, no,” Fu said, amused. “Plagg is _billions_ of years old.”

“How can that be?” Adrien protested. “Was there even life on earth a billion years ago? You can’t know that!”

“How interesting,” Fu said. “A boy who, first-hand, has seen miracles happen, telling me that something could ever truly be impossible.” He motioned to Adrien’s cup. “Your tea is ready, I think.”

The water had steeped a dark brown, tinged slightly with green. Adrien ignored it, focused on the man, silently demanding an answer.

Fu looked back, amused. “Human beings are such a young, inexperienced species, in the face of the universe. It is a little silly to assume the universe revolves around us, isn’t it? For as long as the cosmos has existed, there has been the possibility, with the assertion of willpower, to create tiny permutations in the nature of quantum reality, even if it opposes already-established orders and rules. Or, what you and I might call a ‘miracle’.

“Long before us, long before any of the beasts or birds, or even fish on this planet, there were Others. Forms of life, all throughout the universe, ancient ones, and very powerful. Most of them were good, but there were a few, grasping and violent, who spread darkness everywhere they went, on a scale you and I can’t even imagine. When it became clear that the destructive ones would not be redeemed, the others, in their wisdom, created kwamis. Manifestations of quantum miracles, capable of devouring dark energy wherever they found it.

“For eons, this continued, this great battle. But, at last, there were no more of the dark ones left to devour. And the kwamis were faced with a problem. They were incredibly powerful, capable of great devastation of their own, if not kept in check. And they now had no purpose, and could not even be close to most races of living things without hurting them the moment one of them had a dark thought. What should they do, now that their reason for existence was finished? Should they deactivate themselves?”

Fu looked down at Plagg and Wayzz, expression fond. “I’m not sure what most of them chose, all throughout the universe. But at least a few of the kwamis, drifting near the earth millions and millions of years later, saw the growing life forms there and decided to stay. Using Zou Dan, devices were crafted for them, capable of restraining and focusing their power, so that they could live among the fragile little lives there without harming them. It was decided that, in the hands of life forms with clear hearts and good purposes, they would use their powers to protect the creatures of that particular planet, and watch over their growth. It was as good a purpose as any. Over time, humans influenced them, and altered the shape of their miraculouses to reflect other creatures on earth.”

Adrien sipped at his tea, frowning. “That’s a lot to swallow. Plagg, is all of that true?”

“I don’t know,” Plagg said hesitantly. “I can’t remember any of that.”

“None of them can,” Fu explained. “To restrict themselves to little forms like this, that wouldn’t instantly obliterate the planet, they had to seal a lot of themselves away. Even the kwami with the best memory of all,” a glance at Wayzz, “can’t remember anything before emerging from his miraculous for the first time, back when men still lived in caves. And there have been incidents, in the past ten thousand years, with each of the others. After each such incident, I’m afraid the kwami comes away with amnesia, if it survives, wiped clean.” Fu frowned, grave. “Humans are capable of such heroic selflessness and bravery, but also of such intense selfishness and destructiveness. Kwamis, by their nature, absorb energy. Whatever you as a host feed your kwami, it can’t help but be affected by it.”

They were silent for a moment, mulling over that.

“Anyways,” Fu said, smiling again. “I am glad Monsieur Kubdel called. I have been searching for you for weeks. The cat miraculous is so good at hiding away, isn’t it?” He took a sip of his tea. “You will, of course, be staying with me for now.”

“Wait, what?” Adrien asked, looking up from his own cup.

Fu laughed. “You must forgive me. We are so informal, these days. In millennia past, it was the custom that miraculous holders would take on apprentices, and train them for years before passing their miraculous on to the next generation. But roughly a hundred years before I was born, there was a great massacre, and most of their knowledge and history were wiped out. When I first came to hold the turtle miraculous, there was no one to help me, and I had to spend the first few centuries figuring things out on my own. I was stronger, for it, in the end, and I wanted to let you explore your abilities on your own as well. But…” He sighed. “Other people are not me. You’ve been in turmoil, these past few weeks, and for that, I am sorry. You in particular are one that could have used a little guidance. So… Your room is through that door to the side there. Your training will begin in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked, surprised. “I’m very grateful, but I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“It’s not imposing,” Fu said gently. “Think of it this way, if it helps. An old man like me, living all alone. I could use a strong young boy like you to protect me.”

“Ha!” Adrien shook his head. The man seemed small and fragile, but he had the feeling he could hold his own if needed. “Well, if you’re sure… I won’t lie. I have all these questions, and I would be very thankful for anything you could teach me, _shifu_.”

“Then it’s settled,” the man said. He lifted the kettle, which was still letting off steam. “Would you like another cup of tea?”

 

.:|:.

 

There was no way even half of the books in Adrien’s room had been read. There were too many of them—it would have taken years and years of nothing but reading!

Volpina reached for another one from the gigantic bookcases, shaking off a layer of dust. Adrien’s room was still exactly as he had left it, presumably, neat and organized. But with other plans going forward, regular cleaning of the mansion was starting to fall by the wayside, and it showed in the slight dust accumulating everywhere in this room that had been kept locked away.

She opened the book, scanning over the pages of some sort of fairy tale. Lila had loved to read, she remembered suddenly. This was exactly the kind of sentimental garbage that Lila would have treasured (albeit with a book cover on, so that no one could tell she wasn’t reading something more serious).

Oh. This one _had_ been read by Adrien, apparently. There was a note, etched in small, neat handwriting in blue ink, at the bottom of one page. An arrow pointing up, and the words “Mom’s favorite story”. She tried to picture that, a presumably younger Adrien, who must have been a momma’s boy, sitting on the woman’s lap and listening while she read to him. She held the book for several minutes, trying to picture Adrien at all, to figure out what it must be like inside of his head.

The Gorilla, waiting by the door in his heavy armor, grunted in impatience for the fifth time. She had been in here for well over an hour. Her eyes flicked back toward him as, slowly, he turned and exited out the door for a moment, leaving her alone.

Finally. She closed the book, slowly counting to twenty before stalking toward the door herself.

 

.:|:.

 

Adrien stood in the little room, deeply touched. They must have guessed he would have been coming, and prepared for him. In the closet were five sets of clean clothes that, while inexpensive, were very close to his size. On the stand in a corner, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and shower supplies lay in a small box, on top of a fluffy folded towel. The humble futon on the floor was made up with warm, soft-looking blankets and pillows, and a few books had even been stacked beside it, in case Adrien wanted to read to pass the time. A smaller bed, made of spare cloth lining a shoe box, had been set down along with them, for Plagg.

He lowered his backpack in the corner, slowly closing the door. After weeks of freezing on the streets, being chased and yelled at and rejected, to be welcomed into this simple room, and even be gifted things like this, was overwhelming. For the first time in so, so long, he had been accepted, without suspicion or condition, and had somewhere safe to sleep. Gently, he picked up the box, excited for his first shower since the Paris apocalypse had begun.

The walls were thin. Even without feline hearing, he picked up on the loud knocking coming from outside. He and Plagg looked at each other as, from the other room, Master Fu slowly opened the door.

“Hello, mademoiselle,” Fu’s voice said, muffled. “What can I do for—“

“I want to speak to Chat Noir.” A female’s voice. Adrien recognized it immediately, and reached for the door. “Quickly, please! It’s very important.”

“Chat Noir?” Fu asked. “The superhero? What makes you think he might be here?”

“I saw it, on my cameras!” She sounded frantic, panicked. “He came into this building, I’m sure of it! Please, sir, I _need_ to—“

“Alya.” Adrien walked into the main room, frowning. “What’s wrong? Did something—is that blood?!”

Fu turned to look at Adrien, stepping out of the way. Behind him, Alya stood in the doorway, soaked from running in the rain. Her eyes were wild with fear. One hand held a fist-full of gauze up to the side of her face, pressed against her ear.

“What happened?” Adrien said, crossing toward her. “Did something get you?”

“No,” Alya said, taking a breath. “I just tried to pierce my ears and botched it, that’s all.”

“Why?” Adrien asked, at a loss. “What’s going—“

“It’s Nino,” she said, her words spilling out in a rush. “He was acting weird, and then he suddenly left, and he hasn’t come back. I’m worried about him!”

Adrien stiffened. “Acting weird how?”

“It’s Nino, right?” Plagg said, over Adrien’s shoulder. “How do you know he didn’t just go for a late-night walk? Maybe he’s fine.”

Alya moved her other arm, opening the laptop she had been holding in the crook of her elbow. The screen flickered on, and she held it up, showing Adrien dozens of windows, all with different grayscale camera feeds, looking out at different parts of Paris.

“What is all of this?” Adrien asked, leaning in. Some of these parts of the city, even he didn’t recognize!

“My cameras,” Alya said, reaching around to touch the trackpad. “I’ve been building them ever since the city started to fall. Some of them are attached to drones, but others I’ve just been sticking in different parts of the city, here and there, trying to keep track of everything that’s going on.”

“You built all that?” Adrien asked, impressed. “From scratch?”

“It’s nothing major,” Alya said, making several quick clicks, then typing in a command prompt. “There’s even tutorials for how to do it, on the internet. But when Nino didn’t come back for a few hours, I was worried, and I started watching, and…”

One of the windows full-screened, rewinded its video, and played. A small brick-paved street was shown, and Adrien’s heart leapt, recognizing that part of town. How had Alya managed to get a camera all the way into Papillon’s territory? On the screen, a figure slowly stumbled in from one side of the frame, his steps dazed and unsteady. Nino, eyes blank and staring straight ahead, as he moved down the street, as though pulled on some invisible string.

“Please. Adrien…” Alya was on the verge of tears. “He’s your friend, right? I’m _begging_ you. I can’t stop him now. I don’t even know what’s… If something isn’t done, while he’s out there…!” She took a breath, trying to steady herself. “I know I have no right to ask this of you right now, but—“

“It’s okay,” Adrien said, meeting her eyes. “I’ll do what I can. Will you stay here, with Master Fu, until I get back?”

Alya nodded, glancing at the old man off to one side.

Adrien blew out, then stepped past her, preparing to run. “If you see him again on those screens, give me a call. Plagg! Transform me!”

 

.:|:.

 

The sleet had been driving hard, pelting down on everything below, covering it in layers of wet that slowly froze as the night went on. Now, slowly, flurries of snow were beginning to mix in, as the temperature dropped. They drifted in, blown about by the wind, clearest in the faint beams of streetlights that shone down in patches on the dark, empty streets. Hard sleet. Soft snow. And, occasionally, a drifting, swirling bubble.

The boy staggered down the avenue, no thoughts in his head. He slipped on a patch of ice, and fell, cutting his hands and his knees. He ignored it, got to his feet, and plodded on again. Something was whispering, calling toward him. The landscape around him was shifting, swirling in dark eddies that made no sense.

He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t have to. He just had to follow the bubbles, forward and forward, until, finally, he was allowed to stop.

 

 

In the observatory high above the streets, one of the black butterflies clinging to the walls suddenly began to flap its wings, very excited. It let dark energy pulse out from it, calling, calling… So close now. So close! It detached from the wall suddenly, wings beating, carrying it toward the open window—

A drinking glass slammed down over it suddenly, trapping it. Papillon lowered the glass to a table, watching the akuma beat furiously against it from inside. “Patience, little one,” he said softly. He turned toward the window and the driving white precipitation outside, letting pink flicker over his eyes. “That one would be of little use to us right now. Let us try instead…”

 

 

From behind the cover of a row of hedges, the umbrella-wielding akunette stepped into the street, following the orders of the pink mask on her face. She turned among the growing drifts of snow, shielded from it by the black weapon opened over her head, looking at the figure approaching from the distance. She smiled, and twirled the umbrella in her hands, making no move toward him just yet. It would be fine enough to let him come to his own doom.

 

 

Chat Noir raced through the increasingly slippery streets, heart pounding. So far away, so much distance to cover! He leaned into the run, willing himself to go faster. There was no way! He wouldn’t get there in time! He just couldn’t, no matter what he did, manage to cross all the way through to the other side of Paris before something happened to Nino. Sleet stung his eyes as he half climbed, half-slid down a railing, leaping forward and reaching out for the next obstacle he had to cross, that stood between him and his friend, so very, very far away.

 

 

Nino looked up at he walked forward, trying to see. Everything was so hazy, so dark. A girl was standing ahead of him, but he couldn’t process her, couldn’t figure out who she was. Couldn’t figure out who he was. Couldn’t figure out why he was here, or even why…

Thinking was hard. Thinking hurt. He couldn’t do it. He let himself ago again, listening to the whispers in the back of his mind. As he walked forward, he let his arms drift out to the side, leaving himself open, a valuable target.

 

 

The akunette smiled viciously, lifting her umbrella. He was in range, now. One quick blow, and he would be hers, withering, feeding her umbrella with his energy. She aimed, readying a downward strike—

And paused. Confused, she tried to move her arm. Something was holding her back, preventing her from moving. Enraged, she cried out into the pink mask, wordlessly questioning Papillon, demanding to know why he was doing this.

 

 

Papillon, just as confused as she was, clenched his hands around his cane. “Nathalie!” he said, whirling around. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m trying to find out, sir,” Nathalie rattled, her spider arms flying over the bank of monitors and keyboards in her web. “Her energy is fluctuating. Something is causing interference!”

“Get to the bottom of it, and stop it!” he yelled. “Immediately!”

 

 

Chat Noir was on the roofs now, straining forward. He could see the beginnings of Papillon’s territory in the distance now, the barbed-wire fences that had been erected around it. He might get killed, going in there alone, where akumas swarmed! But he had to. If he didn’t, Nino would—

He had been leaping, grabbing on to the edge of the next roof, when he slipped. He scrambled for purchase on the ice-coated shingles, but found none. His claws slipped free, and he was falling—

He cried out, as he fell into the alley below, and pain radiated sharply throughout his body. The wound in his chest pulsed in protest from beneath the suit, and he grabbed at it, breath burning in his lungs. Stupid, stupid, _STUPID_ bad luck! He tried to stand, then collapsed again, everything a mess of pain.

No, no, no, no, no! He couldn’t pause here, for even a second! He might even be already too late! If he didn’t get up, Nino would be finished! If he failed here, despite all of his determination, and all of his willpower--!

Willpower. Quantum reality. Miracles. Chat Noir stopped struggling for a moment, still, listening to the sound of his own gasps. He hadn’t understood Master Fu’s words entirely. Still didn’t. But, maybe… Maybe understanding wasn’t the point.

He looked at his ring, wet from the falling sleet and snow, but still firmly attached to his finger. He breathed in. Breathed out. If ever he needed a miracle, it was now. He focused, closing his eyes.

Slowly, somehow, he managed to stand. He picked himself up. Climbed back onto the roof. And began moving again, even though, logically, there was no way he would ever make it in time. He kept his eyes closed as he jumped and slid among the slick rooftops, navigating by memory alone, keeping no track of time or anything else. He thought of Nino, focused only on him, and moved forward.

 

 

The akunette flexed her fingers as the hold on her arms loosened. Whatever had been holding her back, it was weakening now, losing its grip. She pushed through the last of it, swinging her umbrella in a slow, experimental circle.

Nino, even moving slowly and slipping every few steps, had managed to reach her. With dull, unseeing eyes, he clumsily dropped to his knees in front of her, pushed by bubbles only he could see. He kept his arms out away from his body, giving her a clear, completely uninterrupted path directly to his center.

Grinning, she raised her umbrella, pointed the tip at him, and plunged down—

The blur of black came from nowhere. She hadn’t detected it, even though, supposedly, she should have been able to detect anything around her within a twenty-meter radius! It knocked into Nino, grabbing him as it flew past, the razored metal tip of the umbrella just barely scratching at its long black tail.

Nino, completely limp, didn’t fight. He looked up at the face above him, as he was put down safely on the sidewalk. “A…Ad…?”

Chat Noir blew out, nerves rattled. “I’ve got you, buddy. Stay there.” He turned around, eyes narrowing, to face the akunette behind him.

“One hole in your chest wasn’t enough?” she asked, looking emotionlessly at him from behind pink light. “I can give you another.”

There were no quips, no puns or jokes, that came to mind. Instead, he launched himself at her, swiping with his claws.

She side-stepped, bringing the umbrella down from above. He caught it, wrenching it out of her hands, throwing it to the side. She tried to jump at him, from behind. But for once, he was paying attention to his back. He caught her, and they rolled, over and over across the icy ground.

He pushed into the last turn, stronger, about to pin her. But she struck out, suddenly, punching at his chest, exactly where he had been hurt before. He yelped as pained red exploded across his vision, and she took the opportunity to throwing him off, and pin him instead. She reached out with her hand, and the umbrella flew obediently back toward her, until she snatched it out of the air. She twirled it, pointed the sharp metallic tip down, and lifted it high above her head, about to stab.

Half-blind, he kicked up, hard, throwing her off. He reached behind him to grab his staff, and extended it, using the momentum to push him back to his feet. Struggling for breath, he swept it low, at her feet.

She jumped over it. Twisted, mid-air, sending a kick for his head. Which he ducked. He tucked into a somersault, rolling beneath her, came up on her other side, and slammed the pole down for the back of her head as hard as he could.

She gasped, purple ashes bursting out from the point of impact, quickly caught in the heavy roiling winds and swept away. She stumbled, struggling to stay on her feet as her vision swayed. He knocked into her with his shoulder, knocking her to the ground.

His foot came down, hard, on the umbrella. It snapped beneath him, and almost instantly began to crumble into ashes and smoke.

An illusion, another illusion of Marinette. Not the real one. He was ninety-percent sure. And yet…

His eyes darted toward Nino, making sure he was still safe, laying on the sidewalk where he had left him. Then back to her face, so achingly familiar, and yet so strange to him. “Where is she?” he hissed. “What _are_ you?”

Even injured, even practically defeated, she smirked up at him from where she lay in the wet road, unafraid. “They will come for you,” she said softly, her voice in a sing-song lilt. “They will capture you, and then they’ll tear you apart. You and every last one of your little friends.”

“What does it take for me to _reach_ you?” he said, voice breaking slightly. “If I could just talk to you, for even one second…!”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” she taunted. “You’re too weak to find her, let alone save her. You wouldn’t know it was her even if you did! She’s just too—she’s in a room with a lot of plants, probably on the second or third floors. There’s a skylight. Blue paint on the walls.”

The akunette went stiff, suddenly, confusion flickering over her face. “Why did I just…?”

Chat Noir held his breath, looking down at her. Looked deep into her eyes, trying to see anyone else, who might also be looking out through them.

“Thank you,” he said, just in case she was listening, wherever she was. “I think I know the one. I’ll come for you soon, Marinette.”

Then, now one-hundred-percent sure she wasn’t the one, he lifted his staff, striking a blow to the akunette hard enough to send purple ashes flying in every direction. He collapsed his staff, staggering upwards, and placed it in its holster behind his back. For just a moment, he turned, looking at the mansion so close—just a few miles away now—looming above the other buildings in the dark.

Soon. Quickly, he picked Nino up, cradling him protectively in his arms. Then he took off, running at top speed for the safety of the other side of the border fence.

 

.:|:.

 

The halls of the mansion were almost completely dark. It made sense, she supposed. This wing was sealed away, seeing hardly any foot traffic, and the few villains allowed inside could mostly see in the dark. Volpina couldn’t, but she didn’t dare risk turning on a light.

Heavy footsteps, uncomfortably close. Volpina pressed herself against a wall, holding her breath. The Gorilla was still lumbering through the area, joined now by a couple of other villains, trying to find her. Luckily for her, he was so noisy that, if she was careful, she could keep track of his general position, and stay ahead of it. The trick was to not get backed into a corner.

She turned down another hallway, checking rooms one by one. This one smelled good, vaguely… flowery? Most of the doors were locked, though, and she wasn’t sure she had the spare time to pick each of them, one by one. She swiveled her ears as she tried different door knobs, trying to pin down where the Gorilla might be.

“Easy, now, easy!” A high-pitched voice, little and soft, full of worry. “Just focus on breathing, just like I told you. Happy thoughts. There you go! You’re doing it!”

Volpina’s ears zeroed in on the new voice. She crept toward the locked door it was coming from, crouching down. The mansion was very old, and the locks in this wing were the old-fashioned skeleton key type, where one could see through the key hole if they wanted. She pressed against it, trying to get a glimpse of what lay inside.

It was mostly dark inside, except for a pale puddle of moonlight, coming down from above, to a small circle on the floor. A figure, huddled inside, shivering. Dark energy coated her, struggling against her, trying to break her down into submission. She struggled back, breathing hard. Something small and red floated in the air beside her, watching over her.

The small form seized up suddenly, with a cry of pain. The red shape zipped back and forth, anxious, as the dark energy coiled around her, pulling at her. Purple light shot out beside her, forming smoke, then ashes that pulled together and solidified.

The umbrella-wielding akunette, newly re-formed, looked down at the huddle mass with a sneer. Then, dismissing her, crouched and bounded up into the air. There was a scraping sound, as, out of Volpina’s vision, she opened the skylight, let herself out, then shut it behind her. The girl huddled on the floor gasped, alone again.

Or mostly alone. The red shape dropped to the floor beside her, leaning in close, whispering something that Volpina couldn’t hear, but that sounded comforting.

Volpina gripped the door knob. This was it. The Gorilla was very close—she probably had just a minute or two to work with, before he found her. But that would be enough. She was already eyeing the skylight inside. She pulled a bobby pin out of the wrap around her hips, and got to work.

 

.:|:.

 

Safely back in the Cesaire apartment, Nino sat cross-legged on the floor, next to Master Fu. He focused on the candle flame in front of him, still a little drowsy, coming out of the hallucinations.

Master Fu smiled, closing his eyes. “There you go. Relax. See? The meditation is starting to work already.”

Relieved, Adrien watched them from the entry way outside the apartment’s little kitchen, a small smile on his face. He still wasn’t sure completely how he had done it, but Nino was alive, safe, and back where he belonged. For the moment, that was all that mattered.

“Adrien?” Alya’s voice called from down the hall. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Suddenly nervous, he pushed away from the wall. “Coming!”

He found her in her bedroom. Her closet was open, and she was kneeling half inside it, prying at something with a screwdriver. He looked for a moment at her desk, the monitors with the different windows showing city streets, the fist-sized round balls of metal, half-built, scattered around the keyboard waiting to be turned into more cameras.

“There they are,” Alya said, pulling at something inside. She straightened up, finally, giving a definitive sigh. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Adrien averted his eyes, bracing for the conversation. “I know. I saw the blog post. Look, I know what you must think of me, and—“

“I was wrong.”

Alya looked up at him, spreading her hands. “I’m sorry. I jumped the gun, I think. I should have given you more of a chance.” She shook her head. “It was just, you disappeared, so conveniently, and then we found out who Papillon was, and… And I was _angry_ , and I couldn’t do anything, so I wanted someone I could at least be angry at, so I could feel better, and…”

She stopped. “No,” she said. “Those are just excuses. The point is, I was wrong. And I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, Adrien. I messed up. I’ll post a retraction, as soon as I possibly can.”

He didn’t know that it would do much good. Half of Paris had already seen it, it seemed, and people would continue thinking whatever they wanted about him. He had to admit the theory made a lot of sense, looking at it from the outside.

Alya was looking down at her hands, clasped on her knees, upset. He smiled, taking a seat on the floor next to her. “I’ve messed up a lot, too, lately,” he said. “We’re both just doing the best we can, right? We have to forgive ourselves, when it doesn’t turn out like we wanted.” He hadn’t been very good about that, with himself, lately. It was time to start.

“You saved Nino,” Alya said, hesitantly looking up at him. “I owe you, so much, for that. So… It’s time I tried trusting you a little, I think.” She reached into the place she had been working on, in her closet, and pulled out a small box. Handed it to him.

He took it, curious, and opened it. Inside, a set of simple gray earrings rested on a layer of tissue. Still, he recognized them immediately. “The Ladybug miraculous,” he breathed. Or half of it, anyways. “Alya, how did you…?!”

“Marinette gave them to me,” Alya said softly. “She wanted me to hide them, to keep them a secret from everyone. But maybe she would have been okay with you seeing them. I don’t know, maybe I should have tried to use them, to do something about what’s happening. But I couldn’t figure out how to make them work.”

“It’s not your fault,” Adrien said. “Marinette only gave you half of them. You did very, very good. Thank you.”

She smiled hesitantly at him. “I want to do even better. There’s more. Nino and I have been tossing ideas around, trying to come up with a plan.” She pointed to one of the walls, where a big, over-sized printout had been taped up: a hand-drawn layout of the Agreste mansion, as much as they could figure out from the internet and the few times one of them had been inside.

“We want to do something, to try to fight. We’re so tired, of sitting here, just letting things happen. So we’ve been coming up with plans, a few different ones, that we might get in there and bust them up.” A pause. “But, they’re supervillains. We keep running into that problem. We can’t get there alone, not without help. We need someone strong enough to stand up to them.” She glanced at him, watching for his reaction. “We need you.”

He looked over her map, already spotting places where he could correct mistakes, or fill in parts of the layout they didn’t know about. “Of course, I’ll help,” he said. “Just… in the morning, okay? It’s been a long, long night, it’s almost sunrise, and I still haven’t had a shower.”

“Oh, right,” Alya said quickly. “Of course. You can even crash here, if you—“

An agonized scream, coming from outside. Startled, they looked at each other, then simultaneously jumped up and ran for the door.

Master Fu had caught her, trying to sneak in through the window of the kitchen. She was pinned down, now, under a dome of green energy shaped like a tortoise shell. Master Fu stood over her, concentrating, holding out his hands over it. On his shoulder, Wayzz sat, glowing bright. The energy crackled, and Volpina screeched in pain beneath it, trying to thrash and twist her way free.

“Shifu, what are you doing?!” Adrien asked, moving closer.

“Don’t worry,” Fu said, with a casual shrug. “It will only take a moment. It’s a little stressful, but the strain on her dark energy will force the akuma out. Once her object breaks, and we fend off the akuma, she will recover.”

“Adrien!” Volpina’s voice was distorted, under the shell of energy. She looked up at him with pained, determined eyes, weakly moving her hand toward her side. Hanging from her side was a small, round, pink bag, with a floral pattern.

Marinette’s bag.

“Shifu, please!” Adrien said, trying again in Mandarin. “Stop, for just a moment! She’s a friend!”

Fu relaxed his hands, looking up at Adrien, confused. The shell of energy crackled once, then disappeared. Volpina, shuddering and drained of energy, collapsed to the tile of the kitchen floor.

Someone must have attacked her. Adrien knelt beside her, taking in the bruises and cuts. One fox ear was almost completely cut off, and a deep bruise, the size of one of the Gorilla’s fists, was swelling on the side of her face. “What happened?” Adrien asked. He glanced at the bag. “Did you find her?”

“She found her,” a small voice said. The bag rustled on its own, and a red kwami’s head poked out, big blue eyes looking up at him. “She went to a lot, to bring me here. Please don’t hurt her!”

“Tikki!” Adrien said. “You’re alright! Where’s Marinette?!”

“Back at the mansion,” Tikki said, floating out of the bag. “Things got rough, and we couldn’t bring her with us. But I can lead you back.”

The kwami moved up, grabbing onto Adrien’s hand. She held it, urgently, looking into his eyes. “She got your message. She heard you, and she’s hanging on, a little longer. She’s waiting for you to come find her, Adrien!”

“Then I will,” he promised, cupping Tikki in his hands. He looked around, at Master Fu and Wayzz, and Alya, and Nino, and Plagg, all gathered around him and Volpina. “We all will.”


	11. Part 11

In the blue light of early morning, Alya studied the mansion blueprint, eyes red behind her glasses. Snow had fallen heavily overnight, and now, the view out of her window showed a Paris blanketed in a uniform covering of icy white. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a day off from school, and she would have been sleeping in. Instead, she sipped at her fourth cup of coffee, typing furiously into the machine at her desk.

Adrien, laying fully clothed on the top of her bed, started awake suddenly. Bleary, he rubbed at his eyes, looking around. It still was weird to him, waking up in an actual building again. “Nng… Sorry. I passed out again, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Alya said, not looking up from the windows flickering past on her monitors. “Go back to sleep. You’ve more than earned it.”

“No,” Adrien said, pushing himself up. His body ached from straining himself so hard the night before, and the soft give of the mattress tried to pull him back down, into the warm softness of the sheets. “I was supposed to help you plan. You’ve been working all night on it. If you can stay awake, then…” He yawned, hair tousled from the pillow. “…So can I.”

She glanced away for a split second, smiling at him. “So stubborn lately. What happened to pushover Adrien?”

“He started hanging around stubborn reporters,” he said, fighting slow blinks.

“Heh. Fair enough. Coffee’s in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” Adrien said, wobbling to his feet. “Big day today, right? Just give me five minutes, and then I’ll be back here to help.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Alya said, returning to her computer. “You weren’t sleeping very well, last night. I think you were having nightmares about her.”

Adrien paused. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Alya hesitated. “She doesn’t hate you, Adrien. You know that, right? If you only knew the way she talked about you… She loved you, so much.”

Adrien was quiet. He glanced at her other wall, the pictures of Ladybug pinned up everywhere. He had barely managed to fend off an akuma for even an hour without Plagg’s help. If Tikki was right, and she was still fighting hers almost a month later… She was utterly incredible. He had always known she was.

“She barely knew me,” he said. “And I thought I knew her, but… It doesn’t matter. I got her hurt.” He shook his head suddenly. “Look at me, being melodramatic. That’s why we’re doing this, right? We’ve just got to get her out of there, that’s all there is to it.”

“Adrien.”

She had swiveled around in her chair. She was giving him that look, over the top of her glasses, cutting through any nonsense. “She _loves_ you. And you need to accept that, okay? It doesn’t do you—or her—any good for you to sit there and crucify yourself. Understand?”

He blinked, hard, not looking at Alya. He had been loved once. But then Mom had disappeared, and his father had become so distant. He had yearned for affection, of any kind, but especially Ladybug’s. It had meant the world to him, to think it might be returned, something more precious than any possession. But at the same time, he didn’t know how to deal with it, didn’t know how to process being loved by someone else, open to hurting and being hurt by them.

“Do you love her?” Alya pressed.

“Of course,” he whispered, full of conviction. Both sides of her, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” Alya said firmly. “She would have been so happy to know that. Believe me, she talked my ear off about it for months.” She rolled her eyes in fond exasperation at Adrien. “And she’ll be even happier, today, to see you. Trust me on that. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, voice thick.

“Good.” She swiveled back to her computer, fingers already finding the keyboard. “Now go get some coffee before you fall over.”

 

.:|:.

 

“Still meditating?” Master Fu asked, passing by the living room. “You were at it late into the night. And here you are, early in the morning, back at it again. You aren’t sleeping sitting up, are you?”

Nino, sitting on the living room floor, opened his eyes. “Thank you, for showing it to me,” he said, shifting position slightly. “It really helps, even more than the music does.”

“Ah, well, when the mind is clear, negative energy can find nothing to latch onto,” Fu said. “Keep at it! You may need that clarity, for today.” He turned, heading for the kitchen.

“So it was mostly the breathing exercises,” Tikki was saying. The kwamis were gathered on the kitchen table, eating breakfast. Tikki was telling them about the past few weeks, in detail, in between bites of a piece of melon. “But, yeah… When it got really bad, I siphoned off some of the dark energy for her.”

“Tikki!” Wayzz said, scandalized. “You know better than that! What if you hadn’t been able to get rid of it, if some of it had started to change you?”

“Well, I couldn’t help it!” Tikki said, antennae standing on end. “It’s easy for you, Wayzz! Your partner is like a kajillion years old now! I’ve never had a partner last that long, for as far back as I remember! They keep dying in battle, and I am so, so tired of it!” She looked down at her melon, tearing up. “It happens every time. I grow to love them, and then…”

Master Fu opened a cabinet, looking up at the Cesaire’s plates, so high above. This was going to be difficult. “Tikki has always been one of the hardest workers among the kwamis, Wayzz,” he said gently. “Maybe we should go easy on her. The other kwamis could stand to learn from her work ethic. Right, Plagg?”

Plagg looked up from his cheese, frowning. “Really, old man? I’m the kwami connected to the power of destruction. Death, disease, rot, decay… Everything that humans fear and loathe. Does anyone _really_ want to see what happens when I try hard? Haven’t you considered, for just a moment, that maybe I’m lazy not because it’s easier, but because things get horrible very, very quickly when I assert myself?”

Tikki shivered. “Well, I guess—“

“Besides,” Plagg said, suddenly cheerful again. “If I do less work, someone else will come along and do it for me, and I’ll have more time to eat!” He tossed the last bit of cheese up in the air, catching it in his mouth with a satisfied gulp.

Tikki and Wayzz looked at each other. Tikki exhaled, shaking her head. “Like I said, I couldn’t let Marinette be hurt. I just couldn’t! Even if I had to risk a little to help her. I know she would risk herself for me, too! I love her, Wayzz, just like the other girls!”

“Yes, but, Tikki…” Wayzz sighed, a patient look on his face. “You must learn to look at the long-term consequences! Absorbing dark energy like that… What would have happened if it had changed you, and you forgot? If you had reverted? What would have happened to this Marinette girl then?”

“Reverted?”

They all looked up. Adrien was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, watching them. “What does reverted mean?” he asked.

“Do you remember what I told you last night?” Fu asked, straining to reach the cabinet above. “If kwamis are bonded to an evil host who isn’t careful, and they absorb too much dark energy, the seal between them and their miraculous can come undone. And then they revert, back to how they were before, giant beings made of pure energy, with destructive, world-destroying capabilities.”

“Yikes,” Adrien said, reaching up to get a plate down for the old man. “That’s scary. So, Plagg, is that why you were worried about me with the pickle jar? Because if I kept getting depressed—“

“No, no,” Fu said, smiling and waving his hand. “It takes a _lot_ of energy for them to get to that point. It can’t really happen by accident. One has to want to force dark energy through their miraculous, and it’s a very unpleasant experience for the kwami! There’s a reason it’s only happened eight times in the planet’s history.”

“Eight times?!”

Fu took the plate from Adrien with a little bow, walking toward the counter. Reaching up, he began to load the plate with the food spread out, piling it with bagels, fruits, yogurt, eggs, and a little of everything else that Mme. Cesaire had left before heading out that morning. “Well. When you consider how many humans, by now, have held a miraculous at one point or another, I really consider that a good track record! The vast majority of humans are really just trying to get through their lives and be good people, in the end. I believe that. Now.”

Fu turned toward Adrien, holding out the plate with a smile. “The polite thing to do would be to carry this up to the roof, wouldn’t it? That young lady has   
been waiting very patiently, out there in the cold.”

Adrien looked up at the ceiling above him, frowning.

 

.:|:.

 

Volpina sat cross-legged on the roof, wrapped in a thick blanket. The air was frosty on her face, and she knew that if she looked out, everywhere in every direction, there would be pure white, beautiful and so far undisturbed. But she couldn’t let herself see it. She had blindfolded herself, so that, if Papillon suddenly checked in, she wouldn’t give away their position. And she had refused to come inside, on the off-chance that something overheard or otherwise sensed would do the same thing. It had just been her, all night, feeling the snow fall on her shoulders in total darkness, alone with her thoughts.

Something rustled to the side. One ear swiveled toward it, and, under the blanket, she grabbed at her staff. “Who’s there?” she asked sharply.

“Easy there,” a familiar voice called. “It’s just me. Hungry?”

She could smell it, now, the food he was carrying. “Thanks. But you should eat it yourself, Chat Noir. You’re so skinny that a five-year-old could knock you over.”

He laughed quietly, feet crunching on the ice as he walked toward her. “Don’t be like that. Just eat it! It’s okay to take gifts from others, you know.”  
Volpina sighed, as the plate was put into her lap. Slowly, she reached out from under the blanket, and began fumbling, feeling over the objects on the plate, trying to guess which ones might be meat.

Creaking, as he took a seat beside her on the snow. “Ready? We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Yeah,” she said, fingers closing around something that she was pretty sure might be bacon. “A long, complicated, pain-filled day. Still, you must be excited, Boy Scout. If you win, Papillon will fall, and this will all be over.”

“I don’t know if ‘excited’ is the right word,” he said. Silence, and she knew that he was thinking about his father. “But yes. It will be nice to have things back to normal again. Things have been so messed up for so long…”

“Normal. Right. Great.” She shredded the bacon with her teeth, swallowing. “Everyone goes home and gets a happy ending. Hooray.”

“You’re a supervillain,” he said, amusement in his voice. “I should have known that would have bothered you a little.”

“Not for much longer,” she said. “If you win today, and there’s no more Papillon, I go back to being boring old Lila, I think.” She was quiet for a moment, staring at the inside of her blindfold. “…Chat Noir. You don’t like Adrien very much, do you?”

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Just a feeling.” She tossed her head, frustrated at not being able to see his face, to judge his reactions. “I was wondering how you coped with it, at the end of the day. Changing back into him, being suddenly powerless. Having to live like that, knowing you’re less interesting and less capable than you were a second ago, than everyone expects you to be.”

“Volpina…” He touched her arm. She stiffened, not expecting it, then let herself relax. “I know you don’t think much of Lila,” he said. “But I thought she was great, the little bit that she let me see! I wanted to be her friend. Remember?”

“That doesn’t count,” she said, irritated. “You want to be _everyone’s_ friend.” She scoffed. “Besides. It wasn’t just me. Even Lila hated Lila. Hates. Will hate. It was a nightmare to her, to have to be herself. Why do you think she lied about being someone else all the time?”

She poked at her plate, ignoring everything else in the hunt for more bacon. “Don’t get me wrong. Papillon needs to go down, and I’m still going to help you with that. But what happens after that… It’s bittersweet, you know? A little like dying. I’m going to miss this. All of this.”

He was being quiet. She didn’t like that he was being quiet. She couldn’t see, had no idea how he was reacting to what she had just said!

“Don’t you?” she asked, turning her head toward him. “Adrien is cute, but he’s nowhere near as cool as Chat Noir. If you lost your miraculous, wouldn’t you feel the same way? No more rooftops, no more superpowers, no more adventure at all. You couldn’t even make it up here to do something as simple as have this rooftop conversation with me!”

She flinched as hands touched her face. Made herself not fight as he grabbed onto her blindfold, and pulled at it. The rising sun was bright, reflecting off of white surfaces, and for a moment she just blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden onslaught of color and light.

Adrien smiled down at her. She had assumed he had transformed into Chat Noir, but he had been Adrien all along, and she hadn’t been able to tell the difference. “It’s harder, definitely,” he admitted, unafraid to be totally honest, as always. “And there are days that I don’t like my real self as much. You’re right. But even without superpowers, Adrien can still do some cool things, I think. And so can you, Lila.”

He stood, and turned, walking carefully toward the edge of the roof again. She watched, unsure of what to say, as he bent down, leaned over, then slid himself down to the fire escape despite the danger of slipping.

She looked down. He knew her pretty well, it seemed, better than anyone she could think of. Her plate was piled high with nothing but bacon.

 

.:|:.

 

They set off through the cold and the quiet, just two hours later, footsteps leaving deep tracks in the snow drifts. There were no street cleaners at work, given the circumstances, and their progress was slow. By the time they reached the fence marking the boundary of Papillon’s ever-growing territory, it was almost noon. Adrien could have transformed into Chat Noir and been there much more quickly. But the others couldn’t keep up, and for what they were planning, everyone was critical.

“Alright,” Alya said, when the fence was only a block away. Akumas were everywhere, and even the pigeons might by watching, spying for Papillon. They had to make this quick. “Everyone know what they’re doing? Everyone test their communicators to make sure they’re working?”

A chorus of nods and people tapping the electronic devices clipped around their ears. Adrien turned his on for a moment, making sure he could hear their voices coming through the microphones, then switched it back off. “How about you?” he asked. “Are you sure you’ve got enough cameras?”

“They’ll have to be enough,” she said, glancing at the backpack on her shoulders. “That’s all the parts I had left. Nino, I’m taking a tablet, but you take the spare laptop, okay? Just in case. Still remember all the accesses?”

“I think so,” he said, taking the computer from her with an uncertain look. She could have at least made them shorter and easier to remember. Oh well, it wouldn’t matter. He would be sticking close to her for most of it anyways, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

“Good,” Alya said. She tapped on her tablet, quickly bringing up a picture of their corrected blueprint of the mansion, and showing it to all of them one more time. “So, we’re aiming at thirty minutes, forty-five, tops. Yeah? Nino with me, Adrien going for the skylight with Tikki. Volpina—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Volpina said, shrugging and finally shedding her blindfold. “I’m scouting ahead. See you later, losers.” She bounded, and was gone, scrambling up to a roof before jumping ahead for the top of the wall.

“Winning personality,” Alya commented. “And Master Fu—“

“Will be heading home, to put on some tea, for when you all return,” the old man said, smiling kindly. “There’s no need to give me busy work. We all know I’m too old for this sort of thing.”

“Okay,” Adrien said. “Be careful, getting back. Thank you for everything.”

“You be careful as well, young man. I expect you to bring all of these ones home, too, at the end, understand?” Fu reached up, taking Adrien’s right hand. He covered it in his own. “I wish you good luck! And I leave you with this parting gift.”

Adrien looked down, confused, as his ring began to vibrate on his hand. The gray turned black, even without him transforming, until the green paw symbol lit up, very bright. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Two hours, as much Cataclysm as you need,” Fu said, before releasing his hand. “Within reasonable limits, of course. Don’t get used to this! This is only for emergencies, and I can’t do it every time.”

Adrien lifted his hand, inspecting the ring, then nodded. “Thank you, shifu. That’s going to help a lot.”

“It had better,” Fu said, turning away. “Now go! Daylight’s burning.”

“Right,” Alya said, opening her pack. She pulled out a drone, and opened up a particular program on her tablet. Slowly, carefully, she began piloting the little helicopter-like device, sending it away from her, toward the wall.

When it was right up against the brick, she tapped a button. The home-made explosives attached to the drone detonated, forcefully, blowing a large hole in the wall.

Immediately, they took off, running for the gap, knowing they would soon be swarmed in akumas. Adrien glanced to make sure that Tikki and Plagg were still following along behind him, then lifted his ring, beginning the transformation.

 

.:|:.

 

Red light played over the room, as a couple of akumatized guards stood over the device that had been installed in its center. This had once been a spare dining room. Now, with the windows blacked out and the machine turned on, it was something much more useful.

Papillon watched as one of the guards carefully picked up the Soh Tahn jewel with a pair of tongs, then lowered it down into the machine’s crosshairs. The second guard aimed the machine and pushed a button, and another red laser pulsed out, striking the red rock. Slowly, the ancient gem began to glow bright reddish-white, shifting, loosening. The machine worked around it, aiming the laser in strategic spots, sculpting the rare artifact into something new.

The antique phone on the wall began to ring. The two guards stopped their work, and Papillon curled his lip in irritation, turning toward it. He snatched the phone off of its receiver, holding it to his ear. “This had better be important, Nathalie.”

He listened as the creature’s atrocious voice rattled harshly in his ears, updating him. Then, “No matter. Let them come. I already know exactly what they’re after. Execute home defensive measure nine, then wait for my further instructions.”

He placed the phone back where it belonged, then turned toward his two followers, who were watching him. “Well?” he said, folding his hands behind his back. “Do you understand that this is top priority, right now? You had best continue.”

The guards turned back toward their work. The red laser returned, attacking the jewel.

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir leaped ahead, taking down one of Papillon’s goons with a single strike of his baton. He landed, and looked back, making sure Alya and Nino were still behind him. In school, Nino at least could lap him in any race. It was bizarre to have to be the one slowing down so they could catch up, for once. “Come on!” he yelled. “It’s just around this corner!”

Akumas flooded the streets, drawn to them in anger. Nino was fine, able to push through them as well as any human would be able to push through a crowded flock of normal butterflies. But Alya, still vulnerable, was having trouble. “Happy thoughts, happy thoughts!” she said to herself, her face anything but happy as she swung her bag at the butterflies flying at her from every direction. She was panicked, starting to slow down behind them.

Chat Noir started to run toward her, then suddenly slid on ice. Bad _luck!_ Starting to learn from the past, he relaxed and rolled with it, letting the frictionless ground carry him toward her. He extended his pole, and began rotating it in a fast, tight circle, driving the akumas back.

“Keep running,” he called. “I’ve got you!”

Still nervous, but trusting him, she nodded and moved forward, trying catching up with Nino.

The mansion was ahead, security shutters now permanently closed over every window and entrance. This was the part where their plan would fall apart. Chat Noir’s house key would surely no longer work, nor would his personal security accesses. He would have been locked out, long ago, and it would have taken an entire army to slowly force their way in. No matter how Alya had pored over the layout the night before, they hadn’t been able to find a weakness. This was where they would be captured.

If not, that was, for Volpina. As they approached, the panel by the front door suddenly flashed green, and the door swung open by itself, as though opened by a ghost. Together, they ran up the steps and darted inside. Nino barely slammed the door shut in time to keep the akumatized goons in the street from chasing them, turning the lock.

They paused for a moment, out of breath, looking around the empty entry hallway of the grand manor.

“Okay,” Chat Noir said, reaching up to turn his communicator on. “You remember where to go first, right?”

“Mhm,” Alya said, clicking hers on as well. “I was at this all night. I probably know this house better than my own, at this point.”

“Good,” Chat Noir said, eyes already turning toward a hallway off to the side, his next target. “Good luck, you two. Stay safe.”

“We will,” Nino said, taking Alya’s arm, turning the other way. “See you in thirty minutes!”

They ran their separate ways, taking advantage of the slight lull before whatever was inside the dark mansion began chasing them as well.

 

.:|:.

 

Volpina edged the door open, listening for a moment to make sure there was no one inside before letting herself in. She flipped on the light in the spare bedroom, just for a moment, to double-check. Then it was off again, and she was moving in the darkness, toward the bathroom at the back.

She shut the door behind her, and turned the lock. She reached into the shower, and pulled the faucet, turning the water pressure on as high as it would go. She had thought this was a dumb idea, but she saw Adrien’s point now. The Agrestes had high-powered shower heads, in bathrooms that were especially echoey. She lifted her flute, blowing a test note. Sure even, she was the one playing it, and even she could barely hear it.

She took a seat on the counter, settling in for the long haul. This particular song wasn’t one she had ever played before. She could feel the combination of notes that would be needed, just by thinking about them. But such an intricate, multi-faceted illusion was going to take every ounce of skill, and a very particular, difficult combination of notes, that would require at least twenty minutes to play all the way through. She needed twenty minutes in here, uninterrupted. And then she would be ready for a grand finale, her best trick yet.

She took a breath, and pressed her lips to the instrument, beginning the lilting, ominous song.

 

.:|:.

 

The flash drive plugged into the USB port of the Agreste mansion’s security system blinked slowly as the program held upon it whirred through its cycles. Nino tapped his fingers on the desk, antsy. This was right at the heart of Papillon’s whole area, right? So why hadn’t they run into any bad guys yet?

On the screen, a green check mark flashed suddenly, followed by an unlocking click. “Finally,” Alya said, leaning forward. “Billion-Euro security system, meet Open Source! The internet wins again.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Nino said, amused.

“A nerd who has access to this whole mansion!” Alya said, leaning forward and typing a command. A window popped up, showing a security feed of a real-life window at the end of a hallway, in a totally different wing of the building. Chat Noir stood in front of the security shutters, patiently waiting, on guard.

Alya clicked, and on the video feed, the window shutter opened. Chat Noir stepped forward, sliding out of it into the fresh air beyond.

“Okay,” she said, reaching down for the flash drive. “Camera time.”

“Wait,” Nino said, looking over the security hub. “You just said you have access to the whole mansion right here, right? All of the security features, waiting to do whatever you want. You’re just going to shut that all down?”

“What else can I do?” Alya asked, reaching into her bag, and pulling out a small round camera. “We’ve got to plant these, before we’re spotted! I can’t stay here to man the hub _and_ run around the mansion sticking these things everywhere.”

“Hold on a second.” Nino stepped closer, looking over the various screens and controls. It was all incredibly complicated, and he was no Alya. Still… He held his hands over the main keyboard experimentally. Mentally overlaid a DJ table over the controls, looked up at the screen.

“I’ve got this,” he said suddenly, reaching for his headphones.

“Really?” Alya asked. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said, grinning. “You go put up the cameras. I’ll stay here and watch over you.”

“Okay,” Alya said, trusting him. She leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Be careful, honey.”

Then she was running, headed for the first hallway on her list. Nino planted the laptop on top of the hub, bringing up the screens that would soon show feed from the cameras in Alya’s bag. He turned up the music and got to work.

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir clung to the side of the building, bracing himself as the swarm of akumas wheeled back around again. In a rush, they all flew at him, beating him up against the wall, trying to knock him off. His claws dug deep into the stone. He knew if he fell, from this height, he probably wouldn’t be getting up again.

They drew back again, beginning to circle around the building, to build up speed and momentum before crashing into him again. Taking advantage of the short respite, he flung himself up, trying to gain as much height as possible before he was forced to hold on again.

Tikki was somewhere in the air ahead of him, keeping watch over his progress, occasionally shouting down encouraging things. He could see her, if he looked, a dot of red, all nervous tension as she watched him climb, unable to help with this part.

He lifted his head, eyes fixated on the area above, where he knew there was a skylight. There were three rooms that he knew of, in the entire building, with a skylight installed. But only one of them held plants, the flowers and herbs that his mother had loved so much, tended for years after her disappearance by the maids.

The sound of flapping wings approaching. He pressed himself against a window, claws digging into the brick of the window sill. And then they were beating against him again, driving him hard into the steel shutter with the sheer force of their combined weight. They were getting smarter, too, aiming for weak points, like his eyes. He yelled as they stung at his face, shaking his head to try to throw them off. Vision blurred, he risked freeing a claw to swipe at them.

Then they were peeling away. He blinked hard against the pain, gritted his teeth, and pulled him up, eyes returning to the skylight above.

 

.:|:.

 

Nino’s hands flew over the controls, eyes peeled to the cameras, both the pre-existing ones on the Agreste hub, and the ones starting to pop into view on Alya’s laptop. In one ear, upbeat music boomed, keeping time with the movement of his fingers across different keyboards and controls. In the other, he heard Chat Noir suddenly yell in pain. Well. That wasn’t good. But there weren’t any cameras or controls for the outside of the mansion, so he had to turn his focus elsewhere.

He flipped a switch, and on one of the screens, a group of villains looked at each other in confusion as the door they were pulling on refused to open, trapping them in the cellars of the house. More buttons, and the room he was in reinforced itself, sealing everyone out.

He glanced to the side, checking on Alya. A new window flickered open on her laptop screen, and he saw her face, looking intently into the camera as she attached it to somewhere out of the way where it likely wouldn’t be noticed. Behind her, movement.

As a record scratched in his left ear, he reached up, grabbing the communicator on his right. “Alya! Behind you!”

 

.:|:.

 

Alya turned, barely ducking in time before a giant, spindly leg stabbed where she had been standing just moments before. She gasped and slid to the side, as Nathalie’s spider face roared into hers, teeth pointed like little knives, all eight eyes narrowed in anger.

Alya snatched a can of mace out of her pocket, spraying it directly at the abomination in front of her. Nathalie shrieked, clawing at her face with two of her legs. Heart pounding, Alya crouched and ran, throwing the can behind her for good measure. Well. There went her only can of mace! She ran down the hallway, praying to all that was holy that Nathalie wasn’t very fast.

 

.:|:.

 

“Hook a left!” Nino yelled, fingers pounding on keys. “Then down the stairs, and close the door. I can lock it from here!”

Pounding, behind him. He glanced down at the Agreste hub, pulling up a screen. Outside one of the doors he had sealed around this room, the Gorilla stood, in all of his armor and hulking muscles. He pulled both fists back, and pounded on the door, making it shake.

Nino bit his lip, pulling up the options bar and running through it quickly. It was a very, very good security system, but it was designed to keep humans out, not giants with arms the size of tree trunks!

Having a sudden idea, he searched the controls for a particular shutter, on one side of the house, and opened it. Alya’s camera, which had just been looking down a hallway, could now see outside the building a little. He watched, from directly above the skylight, as Chat Noir pulled himself up on top of the building.

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir shuddered on all fours at the roof’s edge, breathing hard. The akumas would be back soon, he knew it. He only had a few moments to get a grip, before they returned to try to knock him off again. He ran the back of his hand over his eyes, trying to get them to stop watering so badly.  
Quiet, no beating wings. Surely they hadn’t just given up. Blinking fast, he looked up.

The skylight was ahead, just a few yards away from of him. Unfortunately, so was she.

The Ladybug akunette spun her yoyo in slow, lazy circles, watching him. Her foot rested on the top of the skylight, and a challenge was in her eyes. He started toward her, then hesitated, senses picking up others.

They stepped out, slowly, eyeing him. The umbrella akunette, from behind a chimney. The sewing akunette, scaling up the wall from below him. The gift box akunette, appearing when he looked away for a second, huddled in a corner. And a new one! The gaming akunette wasn’t one he had seen before, holding a video game controller with a cord that seemed to be plugged into her own suit. He was starting to be sure of it—the longer Marinette was left alone with her akuma, the more varieties there would be.

Good thing Marinette wouldn’t be left alone much longer, then.

“Chat Noir!” Tikki zoomed down, hovering above his shoulder. She looked out at the unfriendly Marinette faces all around, frowning.

“Tell me one thing,” he said, extending his baton with a flick of his wrist. He turned around and around, taking them in, as they moved in to surround him. “These ones. None of them are the real Marinette, right? One-hundred-percent sure?”

“Yes,” Tikki said. “I’m sure.”

“Alright then.” Chat Noir twirled his baton, then jumped into action as they all attacked him at once. He rushed the Ladybug one—the nearest one—determined not to stop until he saw purple ashes.


	12. Part 12

Eyes still watering from the butterfly attacks, Chat Noir stumbled sideways seconds before he could be hit with another bad luck beam, striking his baton toward the gaming akunette. She slid out of the way, leaving the Ladybug akunette an opening to hit him with her yoyo. He gritted his teeth as it looped around his wrist, and pulled, trying to yank her toward his weapon.

So many evil Marinettes. And each of them, apparently, reflected something he believed about her. As he spun to avoid the sharp end of an oversized sewing needle, the thought passed through his head that he could never have believed this, that Marinette would have been so gleefully violent and bloodthirsty. But then, back before he had known she was Ladybug, he would have never pegged Marinette as the type to do much of anything in a fight. She had seemed so sweet and shy, more focused on crafts and school projects, with the occasional side interest among her friends.

The Ladybug akunette planted her feet and began pulling, hard, trying to force him to come toward her, yoyo tugging on his arm. He planted his own feet, gripping the yoyo’s string just as hard. “Cataclysm!”

That was just it, he thought, as the string snapped and he went stumbling backwards. She had _seemed_ that way. There was more Marinette beneath that, though, complicated, intricate, and capable of much more than he had given her credit for. She was more than the sum of her interests and attributes, and always had been. If he had just spent a little time, back then, getting to really know her…

Now was the time to start. He blinked twice, vision starting to clear.

“Cataclysm!” he said again, feeling his supercharged ring vibrate with Master Fu’s energy, pulling more destructive power into his claws. He jumped over a swinging umbrella, dodged a pair of scissors, ducked beneath a kick. Grabbed the sewing akunette, and plunged his hand down for her scissors, feeling it turn into ashes.

The sewing akunette looked down in horror as her best weapon disintegrated. Looked up at Chat Noir, watching as he drew his hand back, charging up another Cataclysm.

“Adrien,” she said suddenly, pleading. “It’s me! It’s the real Marinette! Please, don’t—“

“Marinette loved sewing,” Chat Noir said, grabbing her by the collar with his other hand. “And she’s great at it. But that’s not all she is.”

She gasped as his claws plunged at her, breaking her apart.

His ears flicked behind him, catching the gaming akunette trying to sneak in an attack from the side. He whirled around, knocking his baton into her legs. She fell, and then he was on top of her. Marinette was, undeniably, amazing at video games. He couldn’t deny that. But she had been willing to put it aside for other people, had never been willing to let other people be hurt by that interest. He clawed another Cataclysm through the illusion, then turned.

The umbrella akunette was backing up, now, a little afraid. She kept her umbrella weapon in front of her, panic slowly growing in her eyes. “Come on, Chat Noir! You couldn’t hurt me, right? I have her face! It would be like hurting _her_ \--“

He heard the click, and slid sideways, moments before the bad luck beam fired. It passed beyond him, hitting the Ladybug akunette instead.

He growled and threw himself at the umbrella akunette, grabbing for her weapon. She suddenly turned vicious, too, kicking and biting. Marinette had astoundingly bad luck, it was true. But she was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, and he wasn’t going to let anyone, even someone that shared her face, keep him away from her. “Cataclysm!” he yelled, before tearing his claws through the doppelganger.

The giftbox akunette lifted her head as he approached, one hand slipping away from her face, down for the lid of her little box. “Oh, are you noticing me?”

Another Cataclysm. He swiped, hard, and then there was nothing, just a lonely gift box, the ashes around it evaporating into smoke. Marinette was _brave!_ Braver than he had ever given her credit for.

That was all the Marinettes. Now, all that was left was Ladybug. He turned, facing her, completely serious.

The bad luck curse was effecting her badly. She was trying to get to her feet, to attack him. But at every attempt, she tripped and fell. Her yoyo was broken, her attacks unsteady, and now, she no longer had the benefit of allies to stop him for her. She scrambled backwards, away from him, until her back hit the top of the skylight.

He stepped toward her. She glanced down at his footstep, and fear turned into anger. “It won’t matter, you know,” she said, voice low and menacing. “However many times you destroy us, it won’t matter. We’ll just keep coming back, again and again and again, to hunt you down and tear apart everything you love.”

He took another step toward her, and another.

“Do you understand?” she asked, voice rising in strain. “We’re unstoppable! There’s a darkness in Marinette, and we’ve found it. You can’t hope to destroy it, you who don’t know her at all!”

“Maybe not,” he said, towering over her. “But she can. I believe that. And I’ll be there for her, when she does.”

He lifted his hand, pouring power into it, dark bits of energy swirling out of his fingertips. Then he brought it down, down through the akunette, down through the skylight, down through the last bit of barrier keeping him from reaching the partner he had missed so incredibly much.

 

.:|:.

 

The Agreste kitchen was _huge_ , bigger than Chef Cesaire’s entire restaurant kitchen. Alya’s mother would have loved to cook in a kitchen like this, with state-of-the-art equipment and such a variety of food and materials. Alya herself would settle for just staying alive in it.

She crouched behind a shelving unit filled with expensive cookware, breath held. On the other side of it, she could hear the giant spider woman rustling about, looking for her. Carefully, she began creeping sideways, away from the monster, pausing every time she heard it hiss or rattle.

She slid a hefty-looking frying pan off of a shelf, gripping it tight. It would be better than nothing, but she needed to come up with something stronger, in case the spider lady found her. She glanced around, looking for a good way to escape. Then paused, remembering to stick a camera on one of the shelves. They could use a good view of the kitchen. Why not?

An idea came to her suddenly. She took off, moving as quietly as she could deeper into the kitchen, toward the back. She cast around, looking until she spotted it—a smoke detector, high up, beside the door.

Quietly, she pressed a button on her tablet. On the other side of the kitchen, the camera she had left beeped, turning on. The spider woman made horrible, gleeful clacking sounds, rushing toward the noise, sure she’d found Alya.

Alya had a couple of minutes until the monster figured it out, at best. She climbed up onto the sink counter below the fire alarm, and jumped to close the rest of the distance, grabbing the fire alarm off of the wall. She landed, wobbling, then caught her balance. She dug into the fire alarm with her nails, pulling free the nine-volt battery.

The spider lady was making irritated sounds, looking everywhere and failing to find Alya. She would get impatient soon. Alya bit her lip, and bent down, snatching a steel wool scrubber from beside the sink. Trying to hurry, she began rubbing it against the battery, watching for wisps of smoke.

Nathalie jerked around at a sudden hiss and burst of light. She skittered through the rows of shelving, turning upon the scene, all at once. Alya, holding burning steel wool up to a row of aprons, which were quickly catching fire. Thick black smoke, coming from the shriveling cloth.

The monster roared in surprise as, responding to the thick smoke, the fire sprinklers suddenly came on, drenching her. Alya was jumping down from the sink, grabbing at a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves. Nathalie charged toward her, trying to ram her, to pin her in place. She wasn’t expecting Alya to grab the spray nozzle from the sink, suddenly turn the water on to full pressure, and aim it at her face.

Alya darted away while the spider thrashed in rage, trying not to slip on the increasingly slippery wet floors. She ran at full tilt toward a row of gas stovetops, pulling on the rubber gloves. As she passed by a shelf full of basic cooking supplies, she grabbed a large bottle of cooking oil. A thick knife was grabbed out of a knife block on her way forward, on impulse.

Nathalie was chasing her. She could hear the unnatural near-skeletal limbs beating against the wet cement floor, trying to catch up. She yanked the lid off of the vegetable oil, trying to dump as much of it behind her as she could while she ran.

She reached the cookstoves just in time. An ear-splitting screech from behind, as Nathalie hit the vegetable oil and began sliding. Alya stood in front of the stove for as long as she dared, letting the spider aim for her, to try to correct her course straight for her.

At the last moment, she stepped aside. Nathalie crashed into the stove, limbs sprawled on top. Alya slammed the knife down through one spidery leg, wincing at the high-pitched shriek Nathalie released, and wedged it, deep into the burner.

Then, carefully, she reached over and flipped the igniter, holding it. It clicked three times before the water dripping off of the spider creature closed the circuit, and then Nathalie was being shocked hard, writhing in pain and fury as she tried to get away from the sparking electricity.  
Alya ran.

 

.:|:.

 

The girl opened bleary eyes as something dropped down into the darkness with her. Weak, she braced herself, huddling against the wall. Whatever Papillon had sent his henchmen down here to do this time, she knew that it never ended up being something good.

She felt it, suddenly, the churning of the dark energy pouring out of the earring. Her doppelgangers had been injured or destroyed recently, a lot of them, all at once. The akuma was pulling at her energy, trying to sap her of strength, so that, soon, painfully, it could force new ones into creation. If she concentrated, she could hold off the process for thirty minutes or so, but—

Stabbing pain. She cried out.

“Marinette!”

The voice stilled her. She opened her eyes again, frowning. “Mari…nette… That’s my name. That’s right… I was starting to forget.” She blinked where she crouched in the dark, and lifted her eyes to the small circle of light in the room, toward the person who had spoken.

A boy, dressed in black, cat ears in his golden hair. His green eyes were distressed as he watched her, worried for her.

She looked down at herself, realizing why. Her body was dripping with liquid dark energy, barely held at bay. Beneath it, her clothes were dirty, and she had lost a little weight from the continued strain. She must look ugly to him, horrible… Her spirits sank dangerously low.

“Hey—hey!” The boy stepped toward her, concern spiking as the dark energy reacted to her mood. “It’s okay, Marinette! It’s just me! I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Chat Noir,” she said, blinking slowly, exhausted. “You really… really made it. I was… worried. Didn’t know if you got out okay, or… Or if you were even still…”

“I did,” he said, crouching beside her. “I did, Marinette, thanks to you. I’m okay! And of course I’m here.” He smiled at her. “I couldn’t just leave you behind, my lady.”

Every time he said her name, it helped. He was reaching out for her, and she felt so relieved, so happy. And yet, there was something she was forgetting, she felt. Something she had overheard, once. A red danger alarm, flashing in her mind, urging her to remember. She looked up at his approaching hand, and stiffened suddenly. “Wait, don’t—!“

As Chat Noir’s hand made contact with her shoulder, pain suddenly exploded through his arm. He yelled, but, as though held by electricity, every muscle tightened and he couldn’t let go. He jerked his entire body, pulling himself back, off of her.

Ow, ow, ow! He held up his arm, confused. The back of his hand—his actual, _human_ hand—hovered in front of him, the fingernails chipped and damaged from weeks of rough living. The suit had peeled away from his arm all the way down to his elbow, and black tendrils of suit material were spasming in pain around it, hurting from the contact with raw, concentrated dark energy, struggling to reorganize themselves around his skin.

He looked up at Marinette, wide-eyed, wondering how he was ever going to get her out of here now.

 

.:|:.

 

Nino gripped the edge of the hub for a moment, trying to think of ideas. On one hand, things were starting to go well. He had systematically started sealing large groups of Papillon’s henchmen in various rooms, so that they couldn’t get out to make things difficult. He was even in the process of sealing up the kitchen, to trap the spider inside. In a minute, when Alya and Chat Noir were ready, he would start opening sealed doors, clearing their way to escape from the mansion as painlessly as possible. He was doing well, manning the hub.

On the other hand, he was barricaded in this little room as a result. The Gorilla was pounding at the door, and going from the cameras, soon, other villains who he hadn’t managed to trap would be running to join him. The defenses wouldn’t last forever, and Nino realized that he hadn’t remembered to leave himself an escape route. Sooner or later, they would break through, and then Nino would be…

Nino would…

He stared at a bubble, drifting in front of the screen. For a moment, he felt it, that pull. If he gave in to his fear, if he let himself feel despair, it would pull him deeper, into anger, into pain, into mindless action. It would be comforting, in a way, to not have to think, to just _obey_ \--

Nope. Nope nope nope. He closed his eyes for a minute, focusing on his breathing, trying to find that deep space of calm inside of his head where the akuma couldn’t touch him. His akuma, so close, somewhere in this building. It was calling out to him. But he didn’t have to listen. He shut it out of his mind, just as forcefully as he had shut the Gorilla out of this room, and _focused_.

When he opened his eyes, he knew what to do. He clicked a few times, then leaned forward, into the microphone attached to the hub.

“Chat Noir?” He tried to make his voice sound scared, vulnerable. “Alya? Someone!”

In his own little box on the screen, where the camera in that hallway was broadcasting him, the Gorilla turned around. To him, the voice sounded like it was coming from behind him. Too stupid in his current state to reason it out, he bellowed and charged in the direction of the voice, away from the door he had been pounding on.

Nino clicked again, before turning back to the microphone. “Where are you guys? Oh man, I’m so totally lost. If only someone could come and find me.”

The Gorilla encountered a door. The Gorilla smashed through the door. The Gorilla encountered supervillains. The Gorilla bowled over the supervillains, chasing blindly after the voice.

Nino continued to move the voice down the house’s speaker system, through the hallways. He would have the Gorilla clear him a back way out of the house, and then he would lead the Gorilla away to the other side, so that he could make his escape. He smiled to himself, before pulling a pitiful face and leaning into the microphone to whine some more.

 

.:|:.

 

Alya planted her very last camera in the lovely high-ceilinged room with the portrait of Adrien’s mother. She tucked it away on a high shelf, somewhere she thought it might not be discovered for a good, long while. Then she sighed, glad that this part of her job, at least, was over. If she never had to tango with another gigantic spider horror creature again, she would live the rest of her life happy and grateful, she thought.

Casually, she turned to look at the portrait. She strolled up to it, pulled it open, and dialed the combination into the key pad outside of the safe. If they had changed the password since Adrien had left, then she would have to get creative.

But, luckily, it seemed they hadn’t bothered. She heard the click, and reached for the handle, excited.

Immediately, her excitement fell. She searched the shelves inside, desperately. No ladybug miraculous. He wasn’t keeping it in there anymore.

She smacked her hand against the edge of the safe, frustrated. They _needed_ Marinette’s other earring. But Papillon probably knew that, and had figured out somewhere else to hide it. Maybe he even kept it on him, now, for added security. If so, they hardly stood a chance of getting it without fighting him directly, did they?

She looked over the shelves, in denial, willing the miraculous appear. It didn’t. But her eyes, drifting among the different objects inside, landed on a small, green peacock pendant, one that glimmered in the light in a lovely way. Curious, she lifted her hand, fingertips dangling mere centimeters above it.

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir stayed crouched beside Marinette, where he had been for the last ten minutes, trying to come up with a plan. Every so often, he looked down at his arm. The suit material was recovering a little, and had managed to make it almost all the way back to his wrist, at least, slowly but surely. But he had only touched her for a few minutes, a few incredibly painful minutes.

She looked back at him, feeling awful about the accident. But she couldn’t help it. She had tried, extremely hard the entire time she had been locked in here, to find a way to get rid of the dark energy coming from her body. Nothing she could think of would work.

Chat Noir sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know, Mari, you’re always the one who comes up with the clever plans. Any good ideas?”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, eyes averted. “I could try to walk on my own, but—“

“No, no, you’re too weak.” A pause, then he blew out, and stood. Walked across the room, swiping a Cataclysm at the doorknob so that the door clicked open. “I guess there’s only one choice, then.”

“You’re leaving again,” she said, voice heavy. “You’ll have to come up with another plan, then come back later.” She looked down at her hands, at the black stuff moving back and forth over her skin trying to find a purchase. She had already held out for so long. She wasn’t sure if she could make it even one more day like this.

“No. Of course not.” Chat Noir walked back toward her, flexing his hands open and closed. He glanced up at the broken skylight above, frowning. “I was going to carry you out the way I came in. That would have been easiest. But if my suit gives out while we’re only halfway down the outside of the building… No, that’s not going to work.”

“It’s okay, Chat Noir,” she said softly. “It was a good try. I appreciate you coming back for me. It means a lot. Really.” She blinked, trying not to cry. “But he’s got me trapped in here. I think that’s probably why he let you get to me in the first place. He’s expecting you to try to stay with me, and then he’ll trap you too. You’ve got no choice but to run.” A shuddery breath. “I don’t blame you. I really don’t.”

“Hey. Stop it with that. I’m not leaving you. Never again.” He crouched beside her again, looking into her eyes. “We’re getting out of here. Both of us. Okay?”

“How?” she asked, confused. “How can we get out of here, if you can’t even touch me?”

He winced in anticipatory pain, forcing a smile. “Simple. I do it anyways.”

Chat Noir picked her up in his arms before she could stop him. He cried out as the dark energy began crackling around him, sending the piercing burning sensation all throughout his body. He stood, staggering for a moment, clutching her to his chest. Then gritted his teeth and began to run, feeling his suit and superpowers beginning to fall apart around him.

Marinette watched, wide-eyed, as they stormed through the door together. She had been living in a dark room for almost a full month, and for a moment, the bright lights of the hallway outside blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around his neck for stability as he continued to lurch forward, shaking and making pained noises the entire way.

Sharp turns, jumps, sudden drops as they descended stairs. He was breathing hard, and she could tell that he was running on adrenaline alone now. If he gave out before they got outside, she wouldn’t be able to even walk out alone, let alone carry him too.

Her eyes snapped open as she heard voices. Ahead were two supervillains, generic-looking ones, blocking the way. “Chat Noir,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said with dread, face tight from hurt. He bent over her, picking up speed, desperation shaking through his grip on her.

Something attacked the supervillains before they even got close. She couldn’t see what. Suddenly, the supervillains were being tossed to the ground, looks of surprise on their faces. Something invisible lifted a vase stolen from a different room, and smashed it over one of the villain’s heads.

Chat Noir jumped over the two laying on the ground, continuing to run. From there, things continued to conveniently work out for them. Doors opened themselves ahead of Chat Noir, obstacles were shoved aside, enemies found themselves attacked by what could only be some sort of ghost.

A female voice crackled from the device on Chat Noir’s ear, calling directions, telling him when to turn left of right. All the while, his disguise was crumbling. First one cat ear, then the other fell off. His mask unraveled. His suit began wearing away in patches, trembling as though in pain, dwindling to less and less.

The final door, a back exit from the mansion, sprang open ahead for them. Stumbling badly now, Chat Noir threw himself through, the last of his superpowers fading away as they tumbled out onto the snow-covered grass below.

“Chat Noir!” Nino, running toward them from a Gorilla-shaped hole in the wall, a little further down. “Or—Adrien?!”

Adrien gasped, laying on his side in the snow, feeling it soak into his shirt and pants. Everything, _everything_ hurt, as though someone had run a live wire over his body, making every nerve burn. The ring was shaking wildly on his finger, the green paw symbol flickering on and off. After a moment, it spat Plagg out, and the kwami fell limply beside Adrien.

Adrien shakily lifted a hand, moving it toward Plagg, full of guilt. “M-Marinette?” he called.

“I’m here,” she answered back, crouched a few feet ahead of him. She was inspecting herself, noticing the lack of dark energy. It would be back, but for now, almost all of it had been cancelled out by exposure to Adrien’s suit.

“We’re all here, I think,” Nino said, scooping Plagg up. He bent down, looking Adrien over, trying to guess what had gone wrong. “Or—wait, where’s Alya?”

_Boom._ Something landed, hard, on the ground beside them suddenly, making the earth shake. There was a flash of blue and green feathers, then, when it faded, just Alya, disheveled from jumping from a third-story window. She turned toward them, wide-eyed. “Guys, you are _not_ going to believe this!”

“Later,” Adrien rasped, getting up onto his elbows. “No talk until we get onto the boat!” He looked ahead, toward what was normally a small grassy field behind the back of the mansion. Now covered in snow, it presented a clean white little stretch of land rolling down toward the banks of the Seine. Satellite imagery had suggested that _L’aile de l’Moth_ , the Agreste’s river boat that had taken Adrien on many happy childhood vacations, was still moored at the small dock on the waterfront. Sure enough, he saw it now, waiting for them. But in front of it stood Papillon, leaning on his cane, staring at them with a smug expression from only perhaps six or seven meters away.

Adrien’s breath caught in his throat. “Father,” he whispered, pushing himself up further onto his knees.

“Adrien!” Papillon’s voice carried loud and clear in the still air. “It was a commendable effort, but now, you’ve lost. Really, if you were going to come home, you should have called! I would have prepared better for you.”

“No brainwashed guards?” Adrien yelled back, eyes scanning the area. “This is a bad idea, Father. I’d hate to hurt you as Chat Noir. Please, leave now, before we’re forced to attack.” Bluffing, but he did his best to sell it, to not look like his shaking arms were about to give out from under him at any second.

“Except you can’t turn into Chat Noir at the moment, can you?” Papillon asked, completely unconcerned. “You’re as good as powerless. So normally, you’d rely on these friends of yours to help you. Except…”

He lifted his cane, pointing it at Marinette. She cried out, suddenly, doubling over. Dark energy was beginning to pour from the diamond earring in one ear, hurting her.

“Marinette!” Adrien cried. “Father, stop it! She’s—“

Papillon moved his cane, first to point at Alya, then at Nino. Alya yelled as akumas swarmed down from the building above, headed straight toward her. She began swinging wildly at them with her bag, desperate not to be akumatized.

Nino stiffened beside Adrien, as his akuma called out for him again. His eyes went distant, and he visibly struggled, trying to clear his mind, to fend the dark butterfly off. But it was calling so loud, so much more powerfully than ever before, the full weight of Papillon’s attention behind it. He wasn’t going to be able to hold it off for long.

Adrien looked between the three of them, panicking. He pushed himself up, then fell back to his knees again, still shaking badly from holding Marinette. “Father, please!”

“What will you do, Adrien?” Papillon asked, satisfaction in his voice. “You can’t save all of them. You probably can’t even save one of them! By the time you’ve helped any single person, the others will be finished, under my control. You’ll be forced to watch it happen, and know that it’s all your fault, that you were the one who brought all of them here with you today. Unless.”

Papillon held out his hand, grinning. “Give me your miraculous. If you do, I swear to you, upon my honor, that I will let you and your friends leave in peace. If not…” He clenched his fist. Marinette cried out. The butterflies intensified around Alya. Nino gasped slightly as more bubbles appeared in his vision.

Adrien hesitated, not even able to make himself stand. He absolutely could not hand over the Miraculous. He knew what Papillon would do with it, what he would do to Plagg. But he couldn’t come up with anything, couldn’t see any way to stop this. Except… They had discussed this possibility, the night before, the chance that they might run into Papillon himself, and what they might do about it if they did. Adrien was the one who was supposed to deal with it, one last desperate ploy to stop his father once and for all. But he couldn’t _move_ , couldn’t even begin to stand. Even if he wanted to give in to his father’s demand, he _couldn’t_ if he couldn’t even summon the strength to just move!

Small footprints, appearing in the snow, left behind by no visible person. Papillon turned at a sudden noise, then his eyes widened in surprise as _something_ jumped on top of him. Confused, he began to thrash, fighting the invisible something currently clawing at his face.

Nino shook his head, snapping out of it suddenly as Papillon’s distraction increased. “Adrien,” he said, reaching down suddenly and grabbing Adrien’s arm.

As he was pulled up, Adrien glanced toward Alya in worry. But for some reason, the akumas, though flying at her still, weren’t attaching or managing to infect her. She was pushing through them toward Marinette, reaching out for her friend. “To the boat?” she called.

“To the boat,” Nino agreed. He slung Adrien’s arm around his neck and began pulling him forward, at the closest thing they could manage to a run. Beside them, Alya was doing the same with Marinette.

“Wait,” Adrien said, alarmed. “What about—“

The invisible being snarled, knocking Papillon to the icy ground. His cane was wrenched from his hand, floating up into the air above him. It was yanked down, toward an invisible knee, and snapped in half.

Adrien’s eyes watched closely as he was made to run past, searching. No butterfly. His heart sank. Volpina had been so _sure_ that, somehow, despite all logic, Papillon had become akumatized at some point. Adrien had wanted to believe it, so badly. It would explain all of his odd behavior lately, and if Gabriel were akumatized, then maybe, just maybe, his father had never been evil, had never willingly tried to—

Volpina screamed suddenly. Papillon, where he lay, had reached out and tightened his fist. He pulled on Volpina’s powers, ripping them out of her control and then strangling her with them.

Volpina flickered back into visibility, as the illusion that had allowed her to move, chameleon-like, undetected was suddenly destroyed. She was paralyzed, straining against the hold Papillon held over her, every one of her cells working against her.

“Volpina,” Papillon hissed, murder in his eyes. He pushed himself up, clenching his fist even tighter. “Even you dare to betray me!”  
She gasped for breath, choking, as he forced her slowly to her knees. She glared at him, trembling with pain, defiantly fighting for control of her own body.

“Stop!” Adrien yelled. “Don’t—we can’t just _leave_ her!”

“Sorry man,” Nino said, pulling him forcefully over the edge, onto _L’aile de l’Moth_. “If we go back, we die. We all die!” He dragged him toward a corner of the boat, putting him down next to Marinette. “Alya! Gun it!”

Roaring, as the boat’s engine turned on. The boat lurched forward, cracking through the thin layer of ice on top of the Seine. Adrien went tumbling, and struggled to pick himself up. “ _Volpina!_ ”

The boat pulled away, its powerful motor plowing through the ice near the bank, pushing it out into the unfrozen waters in the middle of the Seine. At its controls, Alya slammed on the gas, steering them away from the mansion, toward the open waters that would lead them back toward the safer part of the city.

Adrien’s last view was of Papillon, standing over Volpina, putting her through agony as he ripped her powers away.

 

.:|:.

 

The radio was playing music, old-fashioned swing and jazz, an attempt by some beleaguered radio operator somewhere to lift everyone’s spirits in the absence of any news. Sabine swept the floor for the third time that evening, even though there were no customers, anymore, to really justify even cleaning once every day. The smell of baking bread filled the little bakery, drifting through air that, aside from music, was completely still.

She paused for a moment from sweeping at nonexistent dirt particles, glancing out the window. The wind was blowing around drifts of snow outside, kicking them up into the light of the street lamps. But the sky was clear, bright from moonlight, no more signs of clouds. That was good. Tom had been hard at work all day, shoveling first the street around their building, then around their neighbor’s buildings, since no city vehicles would be coming to clear it for them. It had been hard, bitterly cold work. If there were many more snowfalls under the city’s current condition, there was a good chance they might end up forced to stay inside for a few days.

She glanced at Tom, quietly wiping down counters. She frowned, trying to think of something to say, to distract him a moment from whatever thoughts were causing that look on his face.

They both jumped at the sudden sharp knocking on the door. “Oh,” Sabine said, leaning the broom against the wall and quickly brushing off her apron. “That will be Mme. Chamack. I hope Manon liked her party.” She crossed the room toward the front door and undid the lock, making herself put on a convincing smile before opening it wide.

Her smile froze the moment the door opened.

“Madame Cheng!” Chat Noir said brightly, standing on her doorstep. “How are you this evening? Keeping warm? I tell you, I don’t know about you, but I, for one, am _so_ glad that the snow finally stopped.”

Tom’s strong, heavy hand lowered on her shoulder. Determined, he pulled her gently behind him, and blocked the door with his body.

Chat Noir’s eyes fell on the rolling pin in the baker’s hand. His ears flattened, and he took a step back, slowly lifting his hands. “Monsieur Dupain, I… This isn’t… I just—“

“Papa?”

Tom’s eyes moved past Chat Noir, toward the girl standing two feet behind him, wrapped in a puffy black coat a few sizes too big for her. He thought he had seen one similar to it on the Cesaire girl, once. This girl reached up, lowering the fur-lined hood from around her face, and looked up at him.

“Marinette!” Sabine called from behind him, instantly beginning to cry. She pushed past her husband, out into the street, wrapping the girl in a tight hug. Marinette held her back, face buried in her shoulder.

Tom stared at them in disbelief, then let the rolling pin drop. He glanced at Chat Noir for a moment, gratitude in his eyes. Then he hurried out into the street too, wrapping his arms around both of his girls.

Chat Noir smiled softly to himself, watching the reunited family huddle around each other for a moment. Then, alone, he let himself step back, into the shadows, to disappear.


	13. Part 13

“So then I just sort of woke up, in the safe,” the blue kwami was saying, frowning. “And she was looking down at me. But… That’s it. I don’t remember anything from before that!”

The kwamis were gathered around again on the Cesaire’s kitchen table, this time eating an early lunch—a BLT sandwich that they had split four ways. The newcomer—a blue kwami with peacock feathers and antennae—sat on top of a piece of toasted bread, looking confused. “I know what I am, I think? And what powers I can give, and what the rules are, but… Everything else is a blur. I don’t know where I came from, or what my name is.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Tikki said, brightening. “Your name is—“

“Something for you to discover on your own,” Wayzz cut in quickly. “It’s healthier, if we let it happen organically. You can’t become too obsessed with what used to be, or you won’t ever move on. What happened to you, the previous you, was very terrible. There is a reason you forgot.” He paused a moment, taking a bite of a piece of lettuce. “Don’t worry. Your name will come to you eventually. It always does. I, for one, am very interested to find out what sort of kwami you become this time.”

“Really?” the peacock kwami asked. “But, it’s frustrating, not to know! How did I get this way?”

Plagg shook his head, mulling over a piece of bacon. “Psh, that’s Wayzz for you, the bossiest kwami of all. He thinks just because he’s been around the longest, that it’s his job to go around being all vague and wise-like. Don’t take him too seriously.”

The cat kwami’s voice was cheerful, but he was propped up against the side of the plate, still weak and sleepy-looking. Wayzz glanced at him for a moment, concerned. He would heal, with gentle treatment and regular doses of Master’s special gong-style medicine. But for now, it was all Plagg could do to hold the bacon up to his mouth.

“Well,” Wayzz said, after another bite of lettuce. “As long as I’m bossing you all around. Tikki, we need to talk.”

“Hm?” Tikki looked up from her slice of tomato.

“The girl you’re currently working with. Marinette.” Wayzz sighed, trying to figure out the best way to say what came next. “She’s… polluted. You know that, right?”

Tikki waited a second before replying. “Just… Just halfway! The akuma wasn’t ever able to get a full hold! She’s still Marinette.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Wayzz said patiently. “The process wasn’t able to complete itself, and that’s good for Marinette. But in a way, it’s almost worse for us. She was exposed to raw, unfiltered dark energy for so long… It’s seeped down, deep inside. Surely you’ve noticed the effect on her mood.”

“Marinette’s just been through a lot,” Tikki said, fidgeting with her tomato. “She’ll be fine! She always bounces back.”

“Not this time, Tikki. Not from this,” Wayzz said. “And you know that. I could expect our new friend here not to know, but you have been aware for thousands of years now. There’s no excuse for you to pretend not to know. Even if we did recover the other half of your miraculous, in Marinette’s current state, she couldn’t possibly use it. It would utterly repel her, in every way, as long as she’s like this.”

Plagg laboriously raised his head, noting the look on Tikki’s face. He scoffed. “Big deal, Wayzz. Stop making her upset. _My_ host went full akuma a while back! It’s an easy fix. Break the object, catch the akuma, and then—“

“Purify it with the yoyo?” Wayzz asked. “How, when our Ladybug is too polluted to even become Ladybug? That’s the only weapon we have to purge dark energy, and we can’t even use it.” He turned toward Tikki again, leaning forward earnestly. “That’s why I’m bringing this up, Tikki. I’m sorry. I know it’s not a pleasant subject. But it’s time to choose a new Ladybug.”

Tikki drooped, shaking her head. “I couldn’t do that to Marinette. She loves being Ladybug. She’s already feeling down, and it would make her so sad to lose her powers forever, too…”

“This issue is _bigger_ than one girl’s feelings,” Wayzz said. “The whole world is at stake. All of humanity. And isn’t that why we’re here in the first place? Listen to me. Pick a new host. The new Ladybug can purify all of the akumas, including Marinette’s! Don’t you see? It’ll hurt at first, but it’s better for her in the end. If you really love her—“

“Stop it with that!” Plagg said, bristling. “Don’t _say_ that! You’ve got Tikki on the verge of tears, Wayzz. You know how attached she gets to her humans. Don’t be so heartless!”

“I’m not,” Wayzz said solemnly. “I swear to you that I’m not. I care, so deeply, about all of you. But that also includes the ones that aren’t here right now. Or have you forgotten about Nooroo?”

Silence. The peacock kwami, not recognizing half of the names that were being thrown around, looked between them all uncertainly.

A door shut in one of the other rooms of the small apartment. “Tikki! Little guy!” Alya called from the hallway. “I’m done! Ready to go see Marinette?”

“That’s our cue,” the peacock kwami said, taking one last bite of bread before pushing himself up to hover in the air. “Coming, Tikki?”

“Of course.” Tikki flew to join him, moving toward the sound of Alya’s voice. She very pointedly did not look at Wayzz on the way past.

Wayzz sighed, letting her go. He would bring up the topic again later. They couldn’t afford to spare feelings right now. He knew, better than any of them, how dire the situation was getting.

 

.:|:.

 

Master Fu turned to look at Nino, bemused. “You are a very passionate young man. I just have to wonder if you have thought this all the way through.”

“Please,” Nino said. “The meditation is really helping, I think! Seriously!”

“Then why not be content?” Fu asked, moving a feather duster over the shelves of his little dwelling. “Thanks to your dedication to the exercises, you’ve got the situation under control. If you stay away from this Papillon, you could probably forget there even is an akuma out there somewhere with your name on it. Wouldn’t the easier thing to do be to sit back, relax, and wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir to solve the problem permanently for you?”

“Maybe, but what’s easy doesn’t matter,” Nino said. “How can I help my friends at all if, every time I get close to Papillon, he can bring it all back on me again? Last time I nearly dragged them all down with me! If there’s a way to be free, to get rid of the akuma once and for all, I want to know how to do it.”

“Really? Without Ladybug’s yoyo?” Fu picked up a bowl, dusting at the area beneath it. “You should know that there is a reason we build objects to take that kind of strain. Trying to do it yourself can be very, very painful.”

“I don’t care,” Nino said firmly. “If anyone knows how to undo it, it’s you. I’m willing to take the risk, whatever it is. Just tell me what to do!”

“Such an interesting young man,” Fu said, replacing the bowl. “Easy-going and occasionally careless, but also loyal to a fault, with a solid, good heart. How can I say no, to such earnestness? I might as well say no to my younger self.”

The old man exhaled, putting the duster down for a moment. He turned back to face Nino, folding his hands behind his back. “There is a pickle jar in the cabinet, up there. It’s a little past my reach, I think. Fetch it for me successfully, and you will have your freedom.”

Nino waited a moment, to see if the man was joking. Fu didn’t so much as smile. Confused, Nino walked toward the kitchenette, reaching up to open the cabinet doors.

He stiffened in alarm as he suddenly saw the akumas, swarming inside their glass prison. For a moment, his breath caught, as he looked up at them. So many, all packed into one tiny space! And they were _angry_ , seeming almost to leer at him as they threw themselves at the inside wall of the jar.

He could feel the old man’s eyes on his back, measuring his response. No fear, he decided. Steady breaths, reach for calm. Focus. He swallowed once, then reached up to grab the pickle jar.

 

.:|:.

 

“It’s utterly incredible. Like, seriously, just _all_ the childhood fantasies come true. Me, a superhero!” Alya strolled down the sidewalk in the bright late morning sunshine, a new spring in her step. “It’s so crazy, you know! I was happy just to be the one following superheroes around, but now… How did you even handle this much awesome, Marinette?”

“Huh?” Walking beside her, Marinette snapped out of her drifting thoughts suddenly, struggling to focus. “Oh, um…”

“Chat Noir’s been taking me patrolling, the last few nights,” Alya said, “Kinda showing me the ropes and everything. I know everything’s all serious right now, but I can’t help it, it’s kind of fun!”

“It is,” Marinette said quietly, walking carefully around the slushy puddles covering the ground. “You’re very lucky, Alya.”

Alya’s steps faltered, her grin lessening as she looked at Marinette. “Oh… Dang, I’m sorry. Here I am blabbering on about it, while…”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said, eyes on the ground.

It was not fine. Alya wasn’t stupid. While she had been bouncing along, with her kwami riding on her shoulder, Marinette had been slowly dragging behind more and more. Tikki floated behind her, supportive, but unable to really even touch her, in case she was hurt by a sudden flare-up of dark energy. Even days later, Marinette seemed tired, low on energy, dark circles under her eyes. Alya had been attempting for the last thirty minutes to keep the conversation light and upbeat, to cheer Marinette up, but it hadn’t been working.

And now she and her dumb mouth had gone and mentioned superheroes, in front of her friend who could no longer turn into one.

“Well,” Alya began again, hooking her arm through her friend’s. “Enough about me. How have you been, the last three days?”

“Fine,” Marinette said softly. “My parents know everything now. I kind of had to tell them, with everything that’s happened. It’s been quiet.” She had thought, for sure, that they would have protested her leaving the house for a while. Instead, after three days of watching her mope around, her mother had all but insisted that she go out with Alya today.

“Okay,” Alya said, frowning at her friend, acting so unlike herself. It made sense, though, didn’t it? Marinette had been through a lot. “Well, but that’s good, right? They love you! They’ll support you.” She thought briefly of Adrien, who was still having to duck the occasional thrown object when Chat Noir showed up in public, thanks to her. “You’re lucky, that way.”

“Yeah. Lucky.” Marinette sighed and stopped walking. “I’m sorry, Alya. You’re being very nice, and I know you just want to have fun. But I’m just not feeling up for shopping today. I’m very tired… I think I’m just going to go home.”

“You sure?” Alya asked, turning around to face her. “It’s my treat! There’s this bubble tea shop, that opened just before the city started falling apart. It’s still open, and it’s really cool! I wanted to show you some of the designs they have on the walls. Knowing you, I really think—“

“I’m _sorry_ , Alya,” Marinette repeated, studying her shoes. “But I’m going home now.”

“Hey—girl, wait!” Alya said, leaning forward to catch Marinette’s arm as she turned. “Don’t just run off on me! At least let me walk you home.”

“Why?” Marinette snapped suddenly. “I didn’t walk _you_ everywhere, back when I was the one with superpowers! Do you think I’m some kind of small child or something?!”

As though stung, Alya jerked her hand back. She stared at her friend. “Marinette…”

Marinette’s anger collapsed immediately. She backed away from Alya, shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean that. I just… I don’t know what’s happening to me, lately.”

“It’s okay,” Alya said, still a little stunned. “I get it! We can talk about it, if you—“

Marinette had already turned, and was running away.

“Marinette, wait!” Tikki called, zooming after her.

Alya glanced at her own kwami, confused. She let her hands fall to her sides, watching her best friend run from her, at a loss.

 

.:|:.

 

Adrien sat cross-legged on the roof of the massage parlor, the only place, in that part of town, where he could get a good Wi-Fi signal. He shielded Alya’s laptop from the bright sunlight, trying to see the small windows on the screen. A few of Alya’s cameras had been found, in the three days since they had been placed all over the mansion, but the vast majority remained. In little bits and pieces, they were able to watch what was happening in the Agreste home now, and even listen a little, although the microphone quality wasn’t the greatest.

Most of it was boring, hours of looking at empty hallways with the occasional supervillain mook passing by. But every now and then, he caught glimpses of something or another. They were moving machinery inside, some sort of specialized equipment, the purpose of which Adrien wasn’t sure. Mostly he watched silent feeds, but every now and then, when something interesting was happening, he’d turn up the sound. The result was tinny audio, fading in and out. Every now and then, he caught snatches of conversation. Something about new troop formations. Something about akumas. Something about the weather. Something about red jewelry.

“Did you know there’s purple light flashing out of the windows?”

“Agh!” Startled, Adrien jerked, then scrambled not to drop Alya’s very expensive laptop. “Plagg, don’t _do_ that!”

“What?” Plagg said, hovering where he had suddenly appeared, just over Adrien’s shoulder. “I thought it looked strange!”

Adrien leaned over the edge slightly, curious. Sure enough, purple-ish flashes of light were coming from behind the blinds. He hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “Master Fu is down there. Whatever he’s doing, I’m sure he has it under control.”

“If you say so,” Plagg replied.

Adrien glanced behind him, at the kwami wobbling slightly in the air. “I thought you were at Alya’s house, resting. Did you fly all the way here by yourself?”

“I was getting bored,” Plagg said, sinking slowly to the cold roof tiles. “Besides, what if you need to transform, and I’m not here?”

“Plagg,” Adrien said, gently scooping the kwami up. “I hurt you, touching all of that dark energy. It’s bad enough that I’m making you work five hours each night so I can patrol. Shifu said you’re supposed to be taking it easy until you’ve recovered.”

“I am!” Plagg said. “This is me you’re talking to, buddy. Believe me, I know taking it easy. But just letting you wear the disguise and giving you a few enhancements isn’t going to hurt me. Lay off the Cataclysm for a while, maybe don’t get stabbed in the chest with anything for a month or so, and we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked, frowning. “That’s suspiciously assertive of you. Is Tikki starting to wear off on you or something?”

“Oh, please,” Plagg said, laughing a little. “I wish I’d wear off on her a little, lately. She’s working herself to exhaustion, trying to single-handedly take care of that girlfriend of yours.”

Adrien glanced in the direction of Marinette’s house, over on the other side of town, before he realized he was doing it. He quietly closed the laptop. “You’re sure you’re up for a little Chat Noir time?”

“Yeah, sure, go for it.” Plagg smiled sideways at Adrien, giving him a knowing look. “Especially if you’re going to use it for what I think you will. I think both of us could stand to cut out on the serious act for a while.”

“A little awkward, taking someone else along for a mission like this,” Adrien said, before standing. “Oh well. Never stopped me before!”

 

.:|:.

 

The elderly woman looked up as the bell on the front door rang. “Hello?” she called, adjusting her spectacles. “I’m sorry to say we’ve been looted twice already. We’re clear out of stock.”

“Madame Proulx?” Alya asked, sticking her head into the jeweler’s shop. “It’s Alya. Marlena’s daughter?”

“Oh!” the woman said, straightening. “You’re so tall now! And how is Marlena?”

“Doing great,” Alya said, stepping inside, looking around at the empty shelves. “And yourself?”

“Fine, fine,” the woman said, even though she was sitting in the middle of an emptied-out shop with boards over the busted-up windows. “What can I do for you today, Alya? A little young to be shopping for jewelry, aren’t we?”

“Actually,” Alya said, walking up toward the counter. “I wanted to ask a favor of you.” She reached into the laptop bag hanging by her side. It was mostly empty, her laptop spending the day with Adrien. Her hand nudged her kwami inside, by accident, before moving to the side and closing around a small plastic container. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. And if you could keep sort of a secret.”

Mme. Proulx took the container from her, curious, and opened it. “What a pretty diamond!” she said, before shooting Alya a quizzical look. “Why is it lying on… It looks like rice and maybe coffee grounds?”

“Ground tea leaves. And rice, yeah.” Alya shrugged. “The old man who gave it to me said something about how rice and tea leaves will soak up all kinds of things. I don’t know.”

She did know. She had seen it, dripping with liquid dark energy, all the way until they had managed to get it separated from Marinette. The diamond didn’t look dangerous, but there was the potential for it to do all sorts of unstable, potentially harmful things as long as it remained in one piece. Which was why Alya was here, watching it like a hawk, ready to transform at a moment’s notice if it did anything at all while the old woman was holding it.

“And what do you want me to do with it?” Mme. Proulx asked, picking it up and holding it to the light. Such a large, high-quality diamond, surely worth a lot of money! “I can’t sell it for you. I’m afraid jewels are dangerous things to have right now, with such brutal brigands tearing up the streets these days…”

“No, no, I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Alya said. Something nudged her side, and she glanced down for a moment. The peacock kwami was peeking out of her bag, already holding out the handle to a butterfly net, in case she needed it. Also somewhere inside with it was a small glass jam jar, she knew, one she would have to be careful with. “You still have your tools, right? I was wondering if you could break it apart for me.”

 

.:|:.

 

“Aan-GH!”

Nino doubled over, struggling with the overwhelming dark energy pouring from the jar, through his hands, up his arms, into his very core. It hurt! His own akuma had never hurt before. But then, his own, single akuma had only ever whispered, gentle and full of promises, trying to lull him into a sleep-like state. This roiling mass of akumas packed into a jar, on the other hand, were _screaming_ at him, trying to swarm over him by force. They didn’t seem to care that he was already possessed. They were more than willing to share, if it got them out of their prison, even if it ripped him apart in the process! They didn’t just want to lead him, they wanted to take him out of the picture altogether.

“Focus,” Master Fu called, voice faint and far away, from behind a deafening flood of bubbles. “You are panicking. You must calm down.”

He breathed out forcefully, emptying his lungs. Opened his eyes, glaring at the jar clenched in his hands. Then remembered and cut out the anger, separating his feelings from the situation. What he felt about it didn’t matter. He couldn’t put those feelings first. All that mattered was that he pick up this pickle jar, carry it across the room, and give it to Master Fu.

He turned, forcing his legs to move. His legs, not theirs. Slowly, every step a battle, he made himself go forward, a little at a time. It was _work_ , taking every ounce of focus he could summon. He shut everything out, even the background beats and melodies that were always, always playing at the back of his mind, only allowing the thoughts that moved him toward his target.

He sank to his knees, struggling the whole way, in front of Master Fu. The akumas were striking out extra hard against his mind now, sensing their opportunity slipping away. His senses were being overloaded, bright, painful flashes of light, color, sound, and touch. It sent him swaying, threatening to lose his hold, to let the jar slip free and crash on the hard wooden floor.

“Nng.” He tightened his grip around the glass, fighting nausea. Determined, with every ounce of his willpower, he yelled, fighting to push his arms forward. He moved the jar, inch by inch, toward the old man in front of him.

 

.:|:.

 

Papillon looked up for a moment, letting the pink mask over his eyes slip. There had been a small flash of light, a sudden sound. Confused, he turned to look over at the table, where, still trapped under an upside-down glass cup, a single akuma had suddenly burst into flames.

 

.:|:.

 

Alya’s face smiled out of Marinette’s phone, just above her number. It had waited there, looking patiently up at Marinette, for several minutes now, while her finger hesitated over the call button. She really should apologize for earlier. It took Marinette’s tired, slow-moving thoughts a while to connect enough to remember it didn’t matter, anyways. She had broken Alya’s phone, all those weeks ago. Broken it, and then never been able to fix it again, afterwards.

She placed it on the table, looking out from the balcony outside her room. Poor, poor Paris… She had left it so beautiful, so full of good memories and pretty places. Now, she was home, but everything looked horrible, half-destroyed and falling apart. She had been supposed to protect it, to stop it from ever getting this bad. She had failed it. She had failed everyone. She had failed, just failed, at everything.

“Marinette?” Her mother stepped through the door behind her, carrying a cardboard pastry box, looking at Marinette with concern. “You didn’t come down for dinner,” Sabine said. “Not hungry again?”

“Not really,” Marinette replied, looking out at the dying sunset. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay,” Sabine said gently. “You didn’t go with Alya today? I was hoping you would. It usually makes you happy, hanging out with your friends.”

“They don’t need me,” Marinette said slowly. “I’m just making them miserable. I’m no good to anyone, lately. All I do is hold people back.”

“Oh, _cherie_ , you know that isn’t true,” Sabine said, coming up to lay a hand, gently, upon her daughter’s shoulder. “They care a lot about you. A lot of people do, even if you can’t see it just now.”

Marinette shrugged. “I’ll go out later, okay? Just… Not with the others, right now. Lately, I just want to be alone.”

“I see,” Sabine said. “Well, when you do, will you take these with you?” She leaned over, putting the box in Marinette’s lap.

Marinette reached down to open it. “Half of the bakery is in this box, Mama. Who is this _for_?”

Sabine smiled, glancing up. Marinette raised her eyes, trying to see what her mother was looking at.

Arms grabbed her from above suddenly, tossing her into the air. She yelped in surprise, clutching the box as she fell for a second, then felt Chat Noir crash into her, grabbing her mid-air as he vaulted for an opposing rooftop.

“Chat Noir, what are you doing?!” she cried. Over his shoulder, she could see her mother, standing on the balcony, waving at them cheerfully.

“Taking you for a little ride, my lady,” he said, springing upwards. He flicked his baton forward, using it to vault them around a curve.

“Careful,” she said, fingers digging tightly into his shoulders. “Some of the roofs still have ice on them!”

“Since when have you been afraid of a little rooftop roulette?” he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“Since I had to do it without any superpowers!”

He laughed, kicking off from a wall. “That’s what I’m here for. Trust me a little, partner!”

She frowned at him, trying to be cross. But it was hard to stay serious, while bouncing from high place to high place. While it was always more fun on the flexible swinging string of a yoyo, even without one, she enjoyed flying between places at roller-coaster speeds, over dizzying drops and up sudden steep inclines, knowing for sure that she wouldn’t fall. She had from the beginning, even in the first few terrifying days of trying out her powers for the first time. How could she not? Everything about it was exhilarating.

He grinned when he saw her smile, the same cocky, shameless grin that she could never stay mad at. He paused just long enough to shift her from being held in his arms, to holding onto his back. “Hold on, Princess. We’re about to get acrobatic.” Suddenly, he jumped up and twisted sideways, before resuming his run across the city. She gasped, holding on tightly, trying not to crush the pastry box. Show-off.

Chat Noir finally slowed to a stop on the roof of the stadium around a football field, leaning to lower her gently to the ground. She looked around, confused. “What is all of this?” A folding table had been set up on the roof before they arrived, complete with chairs, plates, cutlery, and what looked like plastic containers filled with pasta, sauce, and breadsticks. A boom box, borrowed from Nino, waited not far away. “Oh my,” Marinette said, starting to laugh. “Did you set up a _date_?” It was exactly the kind of thing he would do.

“Only the best for you,” he said, looking at the box in her hands with curiosity. He reached forward to open it. His eyes lit with excitement at the assortment of baked goods inside. “Oh, man, your mom is the best!”

Marinette passed the box to him, wondering when he had met with her parents to plan this, in the short time she had been outside of the house. “Wow,” she said, looking down at the table. “The pasta even looks hand-made!”

“But of course,” he said, with an over-flourished little bow. “For you, my dear, I would slave away in the kitchen every day, if necessary.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, smirking over her shoulder at him. “And how _is_ Mme. Cesaire doing lately?”

He gasped and put a hand over his heart, playfully wounded. “Ah! I can’t believe you would accuse me of _outsourced pasta_. …But, she’s doing very well, if a little busy, and she says hi.”

She giggled. Then caught a glimpse of the relieved look on his face, and stopped, remembering. She looked out at the city around them, the streets so empty, so many of the buildings damaged or even destroyed. “…I appreciate it, Chat Noir. This was really sweet of you. But I’m just not very hungry right now. Or at all, lately.” Her stomach was twisting in knots inside of her.

“I see,” Chat Noir said. Then shrugged, good mood not defeated. “Dancing, then.” He leaned over, pressing a button on the boombox. Slow, soft music began to drift out. He smiled at her, then bowed again, holding out his hand. “Will you dance with me, my lady?”

Dancing, on a rooftop, beneath the stars. A little corny, but very, very sweet. His relentless cheerfulness was infectious, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn him down when he was trying so hard. She took his hand, and let him sweep her into a twirl.

He held her close, and they settled into a rhythm together, swaying gently to the music. She didn’t really know what she was doing, and her two left feet and general tiredness led to constant stumbling. But Chat Noir was an experienced dancer, and he more than compensated, artfully turning her slight stumbles into small dips and turns. After a few moments, she let herself relax against the warmth of his chest, letting him lead, for once.

He smelled, faintly, of cheese. Of course. He was Adrien, and Adrien had always smelled, just slightly, like that. Now she knew why. She blushed a little, trying to imagine telling herself, a few months ago, that soon she would be dancing with Adrien like this.

“Chat Noir?” she asked suddenly, on impulse.

“Yes?” he asked, looking down at her with a soft smile.

“Will you take your mask off?”

He stiffened, suddenly, steps slowing. Then looked away, hurt. “Oh… Of course. I’m sorry. Of course you’d prefer it with Adrien.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, not following. “You _are_ Adrien, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but…” He blew out. “It’s… They told me that you liked him, back then. I honestly never knew, or I would have… I don’t know why you like him. Chat Noir seems cooler, to me. But if that’s what you want—“

“Stop.” She reached up, holding his face, making him focus on her. “Why are you talking in the third person like that? It’s weird.” Marinette shook her head. “You’re being silly. Chat Noir and Adrien are the same, aren’t they? There’s no need to separate them out like that. If I liked one, then I liked the other. I was just too oblivious to notice it at the time.”

Her face was heating with slight embarrassment. It was strange that, now, when it was finally time to admit it, she was managing to get through it all pretty much without stumbling. Chat Noir’s mask helped, the slight layer of separation, and the unguarded openness without restraint he always wore with it.

“I just wanted to see your face,” she said softly. Then averted her own eyes. “And… It’s kind of painful, if I’m being honest, to dance with you while you’re transformed. Usually when you’re like this, I get to be Ladybug too.”

He was looking down at her, studying her. She didn’t look back, now truly embarrassed. She had so little of a grip on her own emotions lately, so little ability to control herself. She regretted saying anything, wished she had just kept her mouth shut, and not bothered him with it. He was trying so hard to cheer her up, and here she was, ruining it.

“Marinette,” he said. He was pointing down at the football field below them, dark without the stadium lights. “Do you remember our first battle together? It was here, against Stoneheart.”

She nodded, not sure how that connected to anything.

“I wasted my Cataclysm,” he said, laughing to himself. “I was such an idiot about the whole thing… But you, you were incredible. And so, so clever and smart. I thought you were so cool, that day! I really admired everything about you.”

Marinette sighed. “Except I’m not—“

“And over there!” Chat Noir turned, pointing at the Eiffel Tower, shadowed in the distance over in Papillon’s territory, but still visible. “That was battle number two, right? The one where we were starting to get the hang of it a little. You were so brave, and so selfless, and just—just _amazing_. And…”

He rotated, searching the skyline, then pointed. “That one, with the tower. That’s the TV station, I think! Where we fought Climatika, and Jackady. Oh man, remember those? And the Louvre…” He frowned, looking for it. “I don’t think we can see it from this angle. But you remember the Pharaoh, right? You have no idea how much I panicked for you! I think the zoo is somewhere over—“

“Stop.” Marinette turned away, voice tight. “Why are you saying all of this? I can’t be her anymore. It’s all just memories of things I can’t do anymore. It hurts!”

“Marinette…”

“And, even worse,” she said, struggling. “Everywhere you point… There’s so much damage, Chat Noir. Everything’s falling apart. What about all of those things? All the places that have been destroyed, all the people that have been hurt? There’s so many that we _haven’t_ saved, that we were powerless to—“

He touched her arm. Her words choked off, as she struggled not to cry.

Chat Noir looked around slowly. “Yes,” he said quietly. “There’s a lot we couldn’t do. We got overwhelmed. I feel bad about it, too.” He took a breath, stepping a little closer to her. “But it would be so, so much worse, if it weren’t for us. You know? We saved the city so many times together. Without us—without _you_ , this stadium, the tower, the museum, and everything else… They’re still existing, right now, despite everything Papillon has done. That’s thanks to you.”

He patted her gently. “I want it to remind you, of all the good we did for them. And all the good we still can do. It’s you who told me, back when this first started, that all of this would be temporary. We’re going to find a way to fix the parts that are broken. Together.”

“Even if I don’t have superpowers?” she managed, vision blurring. She reached up, running the back of her hand over her cheeks. “Even if I’m just clumsy, weak Marinette, who can’t do anything to help?”

“What did you just tell me, two seconds ago?” Chat Noir asked. He reached down, gently gripping her shoulders, turning her back around. He placed one hand under her chin, lifting her eyes to his. “You _are_ Ladybug, whether the mask is on or not. You always will be, to me, my Ladybug. So there can be no room for doubt, okay? You’re my partner, no one else. If you’re still willing, then we’re in this together, until the bitter end. Right?”

Marinette looked up, searching his eyes, finding only warmth and love and unwavering acceptance. She wiped at her own eyes again, grateful and happy.

“Right,” she said softly. Then leaned up to lay her lips against his. She felt him, eager, kissing her back.

 

.:|:.

 

The jeweler squinted through the magnifying lens of her loupe, using a pair of tweezers to turn the little diamond. “As I said,” she said, reaching again for the hammer. “It’s a high quality one. It’s difficult finding a well-located weakness. But the fractures are there. One more…”

Alya watched closely, butterfly net in hand as the woman raised the hammer. Madame Proulx brought it down, sharp and hard, at a calculated point to the side of the little earing. The diamond, hard but also brittle, shattered.

Madame Proulx gasped in surprise as the butterfly suddenly appeared. Alya leaned forward and, with one sudden swipe, had it in her net before it could get more than a handful of centimeters away from the broken jewel. It struggled as she reached in to grab it, trying to attack her. But the peacock kwami was beside her, in the bag, concentrating to keep it from doing anything at all. Powerless, it could do nothing as she threw it into the jam jar, then closed the lid over it.

Alya held the jar up to the light, inspecting it. Strange. Darkness clung to its wings, but, slowly, was starting to flake off in places. In large patches, as she watched, the evil energy sizzled away, showing pure, shining white beneath.

Alya smiled to herself as she pocketed the jar, absently wondering how the date was going, several miles away. It was a beautiful night for it, and for the first time in more than a week, she could see stars.


	14. Part 14

“It’s Friday night,” Nino said, slumped against the desk. “I could be out having fun, or _anything_ really. Instead I’m sitting at home alone, in the dark, messing with electronics, watching dumb internet videos, and occasionally updating the Ladyblog. Since when did I become the new Alya?”

Crackling from his communicator for a moment. “Oh?” Alya’s voice called back from it. “And what’s so bad about being Alya, exactly?”

More crackling. “You definitely wouldn’t know,” Chat Noir said. “What with your secret identity and all. Ix-nay on the eal-ray ames-nay. Anyways, Nino—“

“Look at that,” Nino said. “So we’re using _my_ real name, then?”

“Come up with a fake one, if you want,” Chat Noir said in Nino’s ear. “It’s got to be better than Peacock over here.”

“It’s a placeholder name!” she called back from the other channel. “Until I come up with something cool and creative!”

“Anyways, _headquarters guy_ ,” Chat Noir said. “You’re really helping us out right now. We appreciate it a lot.”

“Besides,” Peacock said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s not our fault that someone got rid of his akuma immunity a couple of days ago. Now you know how I felt, having to stay inside all the time, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nino said, smiling and toggling between different windows, between video feeds of the Agreste mansion, and slightly darker video feeds of different parts of the city around it. “You’re totally right, babe. I should have just stayed possessed by an evil demon controlled by our enemy. What was I even thinking?”

The sound of Peacock’s laughter, from somewhere far away and windy. “Anyways,” she said, “this section of the city is clear for now. Less goons running around than usual, for some reason. You, Chat?”

“Digging in the trash,” Chat Noir said with a groan.

“Huh? Why?” Nino asked, glancing at the video feeds in the part of the city Chat Noir would be in. “You’re not going back to your alley cat days, are you, buddy?”

“Very funny.” A pause, Chat Noir grunting while he lifted something heavy and then threw it out of the way. “Stupid supervillain saw I was about to beat him, and threw his possessed object on a trash barge to stop me from breaking it. So now I’m stuck _literally_ trying to find a needle in a trash-stack.”

“See if you can find another empty jar while you’re there,” Nino said. “We’re running out of room with the ones we got.” Master Fu’s kitchen was quickly becoming overloaded with jars stacked on jars, full of akumas.

Remembering, Nino glanced toward the small jam jar sitting on Alya’s desk. The butterfly inside was almost completely white now, shed bits of darkness crumbled up at the bottom of the jar, beneath its fluttering wings. Now just small, isolated spots of darkness remained, here and there, none better than a pin head.

Operation Cheer-Up-Marinette was going spectacularly well lately, thanks a lot to Chat Noir. Nino felt a little jealous of Marinette and her uncompleted akumatization. If his possession had been able to be fixed with a few well-timed kisses from Alya, he thought he would have had a much more pleasant time getting rid of it all.

“Keep digging, Chat Noir,” Nino said, definitely not jealous of his other friend at the moment. “It’s bound to turn up soon. Peacock, I want you to head east. We got two supervillains, spotted on Camera 38. So, uh…” He glanced at the map pinned to the wall to the side. “Rue de Rivoli-Le Marais, I think.”  
“On it!” she said, followed by a slightly breathless sound as she presumably threw herself up into the air to begin the short trip.

 

.:|:.

 

“Marinette!” Tikki called, flying up the stairs. “Your mom is making hot chocolate, and wants to know if you want some before bed.”

Marinette looked away from her reflection in the bathroom mirror, poking her head outside for a moment. “That would be great, Tikki! Tell Mom I said thanks.”

“Sure thing,” Tikki said, zipping off again. She seemed excited. The little kwami, in eight thousand years of memory, had somehow never tried hot chocolate before.

Marinette turned back to the mirror, slowly pulling the pigtails out of her hair. She was slowly starting to look like herself again, gaining back the weight she had lost, the dark circles under her eyes almost completely gone. She shook her hair free, exhaling as she reached for the pajamas folded up on the counter nearby.

For a moment, she paused, considering herself without the pigtails, hair loose around her shoulders. No mask, no Ladybug, just like she had been for years before. She looked slightly older and more mature, without her hair pulled into the cute but slightly childish hair style. She tossed around the idea of wearing it like that from now on instead. Moving on. Forgetting what had been.

“Your mom says okay!” Tikki said, zooming back into view, now holding a chocolate-chip cookie. “Also, she wants to see pictures from today. It was fun, right?”

“It was,” Marinette said, with a quiet smile. She turned away from her reflection, stepping back out into her bedroom, folded pajamas in hand. “Alya’s a great photographer, isn’t she?”

“You were doing great, too,” Tikki said, settling on Marinette’s desk with her cookie. “I really liked the one you took of the bridge. Alya did too, I think. She said she wanted to use it for her blog.”

“Thank you,” Marinette replied. “Still, I’m not as crazy about it as she is. Dangling upside down from twenty feet in the air like that, hanging on by just her knees, all so she could get a slightly better angle…! I thought she was going to fall for sure.”

Tikki laughed, nibbling on her food. “Even if she did, she would be fine with her kwami there. You worry too much.”

Marinette smiled at Tikki, taking a seat on her bed. “You’re right. Still… Actually, I wanted to ask you a question, about Alya’s kwami.”

“Hm?”

“He has amnesia, right?” she asked. “What’s up with that?”

Tikki slowly lowered her cookie, hesitating. “Weeeeeell… If I tell you, can you keep it a secret? A serious secret. You can’t even tell Alya. If it got back to him, it would mess everything up!”

“Sure,” Marinette said, as what had been a passing curiosity now turned into an intense desire to know. “What is it?”

Tikki sighed. “I think it was... two hundred, three hundred years ago? Something like that. It’s a long story, but basically, a bad man got hold of the peacock miraculous and tried to use it for evil, and the peacock kwami ended up absorbing a lot of bad energy because of it. He almost reverted, back to what we were before we were kwamis. All of the miraculous holders, working together, just barely managed to stop it from happening in time. But it ended very, very terribly. We lost a lot of good hosts that day.” She trailed off for a moment, looking sad.

“…Anyways, in all of the confusion, the peacock miraculous—and the butterfly one, too, actually—got lost. I guess, without a good host, they must have laid dormant for a long, long time, until recently. Whenever a kwami comes that close to reverting… It changes them, wipes out who they used to be. So if they survive, and they wake up again, they can’t remember anything.”

“I see,” Marinette said. “What would have happened, if the peacock kwami had finished reverting?”

“He would have destroyed the entire planet, and probably the rest of the solar system, at the very least,” Tikki said. “That’s why we can’t remind him much about who he used to be. As he forms new memories and a new personality, what happened to him before will start to fade, and he’ll be perfectly safe again. But there’s a slight chance, if something makes him remember before that happens, that it could start the process all over again. I don’t… I don’t really like to fight my friends, so…”

“Don’t worry,” Marinette said, “I won’t tell him. Thank you for telling me.” Still, that was nerve-wracking to think about! Her best friend was carrying around a pin connected to something that had once almost destroyed the entire planet.

Then again… Tikki was a kwami, too. If Tikki ever absorbed enough bad energy, she might also end up reverting, right? As old as Tikki was, maybe it had even happened to her already, once, at some point in the past. It sounded like a horrible, painful experience. And that was to say nothing of waking up later, with no memory, and everyone afraid of you. She studied Tikki, suddenly determined to protect her little friend from that ever happening.

Which meant she had to get better, too, right? She couldn’t keep throwing off dark energy of her own everywhere she went, with Tikki so close by.

“Come on,” she said, smiling suddenly. “The hot chocolate should be done by now.”

 

.:|:.

 

Lila sat in the dark hallway, staring balefully down at her shackles. On either side of her, crowded in the entire length of the long underground hall, other prisoners were packed in along the winding trail of chain. A few of them were random hostages grabbed off of the street. Most of them were like her, former supervillains whose failures recently had been too great, who had been stripped of their powers and, now useless, sent down here to provide one last small benefit to the Papillon.

Most of them were confused, people who had gone unconscious weeks ago, then woken up here suddenly with no explanation, and no memory of being a supervillain. Even the few with a handful of hazy memories couldn’t remember most of what had happened to them.

But she did. She remembered it all, every moment of what it had been like, to be Volpina.

For a moment, she leaned her head back against the rough stone wall behind her, thinking of Chat Noir. Wondering if he had gotten away okay. If he was in a happier place than this, probably having long since forgotten that her other self had ever existed.

_Was it worth it?_

She blinked, frowning. Had that been a voice in her head, just now? No, it was the screams. She could hear them, coming from the end of the hallway. With the akunettes momentarily not respawning, Papillon had needed to use alternative supervillains, to drain people of their life energy and keep him alive. Compared to the akunettes, they were pretty inefficient, wasting a lot of the energy they stole. The obvious result was the crowds of people packed into this hallway to make up for it, waiting in terror as the supervillains slowly worked their way down, closer and closer.

Except for Lila. Lila refused to be scared. She focused on turning it into anger, tugging on the shackles around her wrists. It was useless. But she had already decided, when they got to her, that she would not cry or beg like the others. She would make no sound at all. She would be angry, and let them know exactly how much she despised them! She would glare at them, and put her mind elsewhere, anywhere but this badly-lit hallway, stinking of fear, where they were going to force her to spend her last minutes. Somewhere like—

Something pulled at her mind, putting images there without her asking for them. An old house, in a foreign country, a long time ago. Lila had never been there in her life. She saw, through the eyes of a thief, watching a window on an old-fashioned Chinese-style house being slid open, then slinking carefully inside. A quick glance to the side. Someone that looked suspiciously like a much younger Master Fu was asleep on a small bed in the corner, in the darkness. So the thief girl crept carefully, quietly toward the box on the table, unlocking it with careful, slightly shaky hands. She reached in, lifting out a necklace, the pendant a single orange fox tail. Then just as carefully, she pulled a fake from her pocket, a duplicate necklace that she had paid good money for, to be made and then never spoken of again by the craftsman. She lowered it into the empty compartment in the box, rearranging it to lay just how the other one had. Then, meticulous, she began closing and re-locking the box, wincing with every loud click.

Lila’s eyes slowly refocused on the hallway around her, narrowing in confusion. Maybe she was more scared than she thought, if she was starting to see things. She looked down at the fox tail charm around her neck, the one that she had, so conveniently, found at a shop in the airport, half an hour before leaving her home country. She had bought it on impulse, desperate for any little thing to take with her from the home she was being forced to leave. Now... “What…?”

_Humans,_ the voice said again, with disgust. _They were selfish and deceitful then, and they’re selfish and deceitful now. This planet, this giant rock those idiots somehow convinced me to care about, all those millennia ago… It would be better without those self-satisfied apes on it to begin with, in my opinion. Quieter, at least._

“Ugh. I know, right?” Lila said, shrugging. So she was hearing voices now. Not the _best_ situation, but she would take it over focusing on the screams coming down the hallways, getting closer and closer. “Humans are the worst.”

An amused laugh. _They’re all the same, the cowards. Every last one of you, all in it for your own interests, even if you pretend otherwise at first. Who would want to protect vicious backstabbers like you all? No one can blame me, for deciding to seal myself away from your kind. It was the first rational decision I ever made!_

“Mm. That’s fair.” Lila smirked, closing her eyes in weariness. “If you hate humans so much, though, then why are you bothering talking to one, whoever you are?”

The prisoner shackled to Lila’s left looked at her, unnerved.

_Well. I suppose you caught my interest. I wanted to ask you a question, before you die here._

“Oh?”

_Humans are all the same. They never act outside of their own self-interests. So. …Why did you?_

She opened her eyes again, having a thought. Looked down at her necklace. The fox tail was cracked, ruined, where it had broken apart as Papillon forced her akuma to come out of it. There had been no protection around the pendant at all. Surely such a cheap, easily-broken object couldn’t be something like what she was thinking. It wouldn’t make any sense.

_Well?_ the voice asked. _I would like to know the answer, I think._

The person two seats down from Lila was thrashing around now, yanking on his restraints in agony as his life was pulled from his body. Lila didn’t look at him, studying the necklace laying against her chest. Deceit, lies… It was just a thought. A tangent. But, if it had been her, creating jewelry to house kwamis, she didn’t think she would have done it the way it had been done, with Chat Noir’s ring and Ladybug’s earrings and Papillon’s brooch. Such a valuable, powerful, priceless artifact. It was silly, wasn’t it? In a fight, such an eye-catching bauble would be the first thing an enemy grabbed for, the prettiness a weakness.

No, if it was her, she would have been more clever than that. She would have created a decoy, a worthless one, to let them grab while she got away with the real thing. She would never have put a kwami in the pendant of this necklace, for example, so colorful and obviously related to foxes. She would have chosen something simple, something underestimated. She would have put it in the _chain_. 

_No answer?_ The voice yawned. _Slow-witted, are we? Not what I would have expected, from someone like you. Well, if you’re not going to say anything, I might as well go back to sleep. Have a nice death._

She reached up, slowly, touching the undamaged gold links around her neck, feeling the slight warmth coming off of it that she had never noticed before.

The woman next to Lila cried out, made dumb with terror, and lifted her arm to shield herself from the supervillain reaching for her. Lila ignored her struggles, leaning back again casually with a smile. “I do have one, actually,” she said. “But, well, I’m about to die here. Too bad, such a shame. I’m going to be killed before I ever get to tell you the answer, and you’ll probably live a long, long time without me, always wondering what it was that I was going to say.”

_So selfish and underhanded._ But the voice was amused again, entertained by her for some reason. _Very well then. I think I would like to know what it was that made you act so stupidly. Shall we make a deal?_

 

.:|:.

 

Slumped back in the chair, bored out of his mind, Nino flipped through the book he had borrowed from Master Fu. He still couldn’t read the strange script (although the old man had offered to teach him), but still, he was learning so much, just from looking at the pictures. He wondered if Chat Noir knew that kwami hosts in the past had sometimes lived to be five or even six centuries old.

He turned the page, looking at a portrait of a Peacock from ages past in interest. It was hard for him to picture, living that long. But maybe, if they didn’t die first, all of his friends would get to be that old someday, too. Imagine that. Adrien and Marinette, and even Alya, six hundred years in the future, still out fighting crime and saving the day together.

Without him.

The thought came from nowhere. He pushed it away, not understanding himself. Why make it all about him? It was great, if they got to all make that work for them. He had nothing to do with it!

Nothing at all.

“Stop it, Nino,” he said to himself, slowly closing the book. He needed to focus. He was supposed to be doing a job here. Shaking his head, he reached for the mouse, steeling himself for another mind-numbing round of scrolling through camera feeds.

Uh-oh. He stared at the screen for a moment, wide-eyed. Then reached up to turn his communicator’s microphone back on. “Hey. Guys?”

A grunt from Peacock, who was in the middle of smacking down on three villains she had surprised in a downtown alley. “Yeah?”

“So, the border walls around Papillon’s territory just disappeared,” he said, trying not to panic. “And I _think_ he’s just launched a full-scale final invasion on the rest of Paris.”

_”What?!”_

“Hold on,” Chat Noir’s voice said. Tight, breathy sounds, suggesting that Chat Noir was climbing or jumping up to a higher location. “….Oh. I think I see them. The zeppelins?”

“There are zeppelins?” Nino asked, fingers beginning to fly over the keyboard. “I didn’t see those—I just saw the hordes of soldier-like supervillains starting to march out into the streets! There’s got to be hundreds, if not thousands!”

So many butterflies, surrounding the Papillon at all times. Why would there be that many if they couldn’t all be used, somehow? Peacock’s voice was alarmed, when she crackled back in. “What do we do? We’re just two people. We can’t stop that many all at once!”

“And where were they building airships?” Chat Noir asked, a little stunned. “They’re so big… We’ve been watching, so closely, and we still didn’t see them…”

Nino gripped his microphone, leaning forward. “Listen to me. First, we’re going to _calm down_ , got that? Panic is what they want. Focus. Second…” He blew out, eyes moving rapidly between the monitors and the paper map of the city taped to the wall. “Peacock, I need you moving west, fast as you can. There’s a critical section of the sewers down there, with a control box. You pull a certain lever there, and everything will start backing up into the streets for miles. That should slow them down.”

“Ew,” Peacock said. But she was already breathing hard, beginning to run.

“So that’s a first step, toward dealing with the foot soldiers,” Nino said. “Next up is the airships. Chat Noir, can you get to the top of the radio tower?”

Silence.

“Chat Noir?”

“I can’t,” Chat Noir said at last. Then he could hear Chat Noir’s breath, as the cat superhero, also, began to run.

“What do you _mean_ you can’t?” Nino said. “The city is being invaded, dude!”

“I know, I know!” Chat Noir’s breath caught, as he jumped over something. “But I also know my father. I know how he thinks. If he’s trying what I think he’s trying, I… I think I know where he’s going to try to strike first.”

 

.:|:.

 

Marinette groaned as she felt tiny hands shaking her shoulder, slowly opening her eyes in the darkness of her bedroom. “T… Tikki? What are you doing? It’s…” She fumbled for her cellphone, switching on the screen. The light was too bright, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look at it. “It’s the middle of the night, still.”

“Get up,” Tikki said, eyes wide as she pulled at the sleeve of Marinette’s pajamas. “Get up, Marinette! Something bad is headed this way. I can feel it!”

“What’s gotten into you, Tikki?” Marinette asked, trying to make herself wake up. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “What’s coming? Is it—“

_BOOM._

The entire house shook. Marinette yelped as she was thrown out of bed, landing on the hard floor in complete darkness. Something below her crashed, and she heard loud sounds of snapping and splintering.

“Marinette!” Tikki yelled. She landed on Marinette’s shoulder, terrified. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no, I don’t think s—“

“Then come on!” the kwami cried. “We need to move!”

Marinette rolled to her feet, one hand cupped around Tikki. She ran toward her door, opening it.

The stairs were on fire. So was most of the downstairs, what she could see of it, and the fire was spreading quickly. Black smoke was beginning to drift up, stinging her eyes and making her cough.

Alarmed, she ducked back into her room and shut the door. Ran across to the other door, leading out to the rooftop balcony, and threw it open.

Outside was a scene from her nightmares. Paris was burning in the distance, and dark shapes spotted the sky here and there, large aircraft. Her heart leapt into her throat. She edged past the table on the little patio, and climbed over the railing, half-sliding down the roof toward the fire escape ladder grafted to the brick wall.

She had climbed halfway down it when the airship directly over her house dropped the second bomb. The explosion knocked her into the air, uncomfortably hot air striking her hard as the entire building bucked beneath her. So loud! Her ears rang painfully, and for a heart-lurching moment she was falling.

A row of bushes softened her landing. She scrambled up from them, frantic, looking at the shattered glass and burning brick where the bakery had been just before. “Mama!” she screamed. _”Papa!”_

“They’re over here!” Chat Noir yelled.

She jerked around. At a safer distance, some five or six meters away, Chat Noir was carefully lowering Sabine to the ground next to her husband. The Dupain-Chengs were staring at the scene in front of them in shock, too stunned to say anything. Marinette, barefoot, stumbled toward them, overcome. “Chat Noir… There was an explosion, and… And everything’s _burning_ and—“

“I know,” he said, face tight. He stepped toward her, and suddenly grabbed her, pulling him toward him. His arms encircled her, shaking. “I thought I was too slow,” he forced out, over her shoulder. “I thought I lost you again.”

“Marinette,” Sabine said softly. “Thank goodness you’re alright! But, Tom… The bakery…” They had put everything they owned, their entire live’s worth of effort, into the bakery now burning in front of them.

Marinette held Chat Noir, feeling Tikki tremble on her shoulder. Shocked, she looked up, at the zeppelin passing overhead, moving on to other targets. This one was different than the ones in the distance, bigger and grander. The others were gold and black, but this one had purple and silver, as if to tell her, as if to leave no doubt.

“Papillon,” she said softly, watching it go. “He wanted to kill them. He wanted to send me a message.”

Chat Noir stiffened against her.

“He’s trying to get us to come to him,” she said.

Chat Noir pulled back suddenly, looking down at her, completely serious. “Marinette. Take your parents, and get to a safe place. Maybe the subway system. Something underground, where you won’t be found easily.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’re going after him. I’m going too.”

“Marinette,” he began.

“Did you mean it, what you said before?” she asked, raising her voice and fixing him with a steely look. “Am I still your partner, or not?”

“You are! But—“

“So, bring me with you,” she said. “Papillon has the other half of the ladybug miraculous. You’ve got our half with you, right? If we get close to him, and get it back, you’ll need me!”

He looked at her a moment, conflicted, then sighed. “Okay. How was your akuma, this morning?”

“Mostly white.”

_”Mostly?”_

“White enough!” she said. “It’ll have to be enough! I’ll _make_ it be enough.”

“Sir?” Chat Noir asked, looking toward Tom.

The baker held his wife close, shaking off the confusion. “Go,” he said. “We’ll be fine. Just… Take care of her, okay? Bring her home safe.”

“I will,” Chat Noir promised. “…Okay. Let’s do this.” He bent down, helping Marinette get onto his back.

 

.:|:.

 

Around the remaining free part of the city, the Parisians were going to war.

The Artist, standing at the top of an airship, a dizzying two hundred meters above the ground, tried to feel something, anything. He watched the fires spread, and tried to feel sad, a sense of loss for the grand architecture, some of it centuries and centuries old. Things he would never paint. Things no one ever would draw from real life again. He had the opportunity, here, if he paused for a moment, to create the very last referenced drawing of them that would ever exist, a portrait of the city, crumbling in the flames. He did not take that opportunity. Instead, he followed the orders flowing into his pink mask without questioning, creating more turrets and bombs.

Ivan and the Hapreles huddled together on a cot, in their little quarantine box, watching the footage from a news helicopter hovering as close as it dared. They had no phones, no way to contact loved ones who might still be inside, might or might not still be alive. So they held each other tightly, hoping, since they could do nothing else.

Chloe and Sabrina worked together, in the truck they had been riding in just minutes before, to throw out the produce and the bread and all the other food so carefully packed inside, scattering it on the street. With every little bit of space freed up from the boxes and baskets, more of the frantic people pouring into the streets had room to cram inside. Chloe paused a moment to give a firm look at the driver, giving him orders without a word. The moment they had packed as many people as they could inside the back, he was going to drive as fast as he could away from the destruction, to get them all out of there.

Max and Kim were side by side in the street, standing still, among the crowd of people running away. Reflekta and Princess Fragrance were approaching side by side, attacking anyone they could reach together, and would soon be upon them. Max checked the set of cobbled-together weapons they held, one last inspection of the guns and other gadgets before the show-down began. Kim nudged his shoulder, giving him a brave smile. Then they turned, lifting Max’s inventions toward the oncoming sounds of manic laughter.

Above them all, a superheroine in a blue and green costume darted from rooftop to rooftop, outnumbered and overwhelmed, but doing everything she could to hold Paris together for as long as possible.

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir dodged a falling piece of burning debris, racing from rooftop to rooftop with Marinette on his back. Tikki trailed behind them, flying fast to keep up. Half of the buildings he was running on were on fire now, the destruction spreading almost faster than he could run. There was no way to stop and help everyone, though, no way to save even a small fraction of the people that needed their help tonight. No way but to keep running, trying to stay ahead of the airship. “Okay,” he called over his shoulder. “That things got to be flying at a crazy height. How do we get up there?”

Marinette cast her vision around, looking for ideas. The dirigible overhead. The Tour Montparnesse, now just a few blocks ahead. An abandoned metal pipe, laying on the roof just a few _feet_ ahead. Got it.

“Hey!” Chat Noir said, surprised when she suddenly leaned over dangerously far, almost sliding off of his back.

Her knees gripped him as she snatched up the pipe, the moment they ran by it. Pulling herself back up, she used it to point ahead. “Climb that building.”

“What building?” Chat Noir asked, looking ahead. “The _skyscraper_?”

“Yes,” she said. “As fast as you can.”

“She says as if it’s that easy,” Chat Noir said, shaking his head before yanking his baton out of its holster. “Tikki, grab on.” He extended it and struck it into the ground, pole-vaulting up. Then extended it even further, sending them up, up as far up the side of the skyscraper as they could go. He reached out as the pole carried him toward a ledge, grabbing onto concrete and steel.

“Bats on your eight!” Marinette called.

He whirled around, as much as he could without letting go or throwing her off of his back. Akumatized bats! Or rather, akumatized men and women turned into bat-like abominations. They flew at Chat Noir, screeching.

“Yagh!” Chat Noir struck out with his staff, not wanting any of that anywhere near him. The ugly monsters were surprisingly agile, darting around his weapon and then returning to attack again. He could feel Marinette on his back, rearing up and holding Tikki protectively to her chest, striking out with her pipe at any of the bats he missed that got too close. Horrible screeching and quick movements, and all the while, he was holding himself and Marinette onto the building with just one clawed hand, a hand that was getting more and more strained from the weight.

The bats screamed at him, pulling back. He retracted his staff, eyeing them. “Did we do it? And they going to leave us alone now?”

One bat opened its mouth wide suddenly, spitting out a ball of acid straight at him.

“Oh, for—“ He jumped, desperate to get them out of the way. The acid hit the building where they had been seconds before, eating through with a loud hiss.

They were falling, and his baton was clamped between his arm and his side. But he couldn’t grab it, not without letting go of Marinette. He twisted around in midair, frantic, trying to find some way to stop their descent before—

Marinette slammed her pipe through a window, halting their descent with a sudden painful jerk. He was slipping, and she reached down, grabbing his hand. Their only hold on the building was the pipe, wedged sideways through a window frame. Marinette gripped it with one hand, holding onto him with the other, the strain evident on his face. The weight had been hard for him, even with superpowers. She wasn’t going to be able to hold them up for long.

It wasn’t going to matter. The bats had spotted them, and were soaring down, jagged teeth stretched wide in their mouths, ready to kill them. Chat Noir and Marinette watched, wide-eyed, as the beasts approached—

Orange smoke, shot directly toward the creatures’s faces. The bats screeched in pain, blinded, tumbling down. As they fell, a figure jumped up from below, striking at them with a long staff.

“I don’t believe it,” Chat Noir said, letting go of Marinette’s hand and catching onto the side of the building with his claws. He raised his voice, looking down at her. _”Volpina?!”_

“No!” the superheroine called up from below, grinning before smashing her staff into the side of a bat monster’s face. _”Lila!”_

Chat Noir grinned. Then remembered where he was, and scaled upwards, gathering Marinette safely back behind him. He took a breath, looking up, finally figuring out Marinette’s plan. His staff shot down into the window ledge he was standing on, springing them up into the air, flying for the dirigible passing overhead.

 

.:|:.

 

They clung to the outside of the airship’s passenger cabin, the three of them, shivering in the heavy, cold winds, trying to catch their breath for a moment. No villains seemed to have spotted them, or at least, they weren’t trying to attack them. The possibility remained that they had been spotted, but were being allowed to approach. Chat Noir didn’t want to think about the implications of that.

Marinette reached out, touching the side of his face. He hadn’t realized it, in the adrenaline rush, but one of the bat creatures had cut a gash there, and he was bleeding. He winced, then smiled at her concerned look. “I’m okay. We’re both okay, right?”

“I think,” Marinette said softly. She looked below, at the city burning, the monsters flooding the streets. Most of the free Parisians were fleeing, but a few could be seen even at such a distance, fighting back, just as heroic as anyone in a superhero suit. “You ready for this?” she asked.

“I have to be,” he said, taking a final breath before reaching for the door.

Inside was a dimly-lit hallway, cramped and with no cover. Chat Noir went in first, baton ready. He reached back, handing his half of the ladybug miraculous to Marinette, watching with Tikki as she fastened it to her ear. There was light ahead, coming from a room whose door was open—had been left open, on purpose. He touched her shoulder, looking in her eyes one final time while things were still quiet. Then they walked forward.

Papillon was waiting for them in the room ahead, completely alone. Or rather, Gabriel seemed to be waiting, standing by the airship’s controls, hands folded neatly behind his back. It struck Chat Noir, to see his father like that, unmasked and untransformed, wearing only a simple white business suit with the butterfly brooch on the front. “Come in,” the man said, making no move to attack them as they appeared in the doorway. “You’re a little late.”

“Father,” Chat Noir said softly, staying ahead of Marinette. “Why aren’t you transformed?”

“Does it upset you?” the man asked, smiling slightly. “Ah, I suppose it would, though, wouldn’t it? When I wear a mask, you can separate me, psychologically, from the man who raised you. Sort of pretend that I’m someone else. It must be pain of a whole different level, to have to fight me while looking me fully in the face.”

Chat Noir frowned, gripping his baton. Everything was off about his father. The expressions on his face, the slight tones and pronunciations of his words, the way he held himself. Nothing felt right. But he had seen Volpina snap the cane with his own eyes. And no matter how he looked his father over, he couldn’t find any other loose object that might hold an akuma. So what—

“It’s in here,” Papillon said, tapping his chest.

“What?”

“The akuma. You’re looking for it, aren’t you? You’ve figured it out.” Papillon smirked. “The man you are speaking to is not exactly Gabriel Agreste. Gabriel hasn’t been here for a while. That’s your fault, by the way, boy. You upset him so much that he thought the only way to go forward, without hesitation, was to akumatize his own heart.”

Chat Noir stopped breathing for a second. He glanced down at Papillon’s chest, then back up to his face, horrified. “Why?!”

“For exactly the reason you think,” Papillon said smoothly. “Absolute commitment. There will be no purifying him. If you want to get at the akuma controlling him, you’ll have to literally break his heart to do it. But, oh well, right? For the few moments while he’s gasping and bleeding to death, you’d have your father back, I suppose. You could look into his eyes as you said goodbye, and know he fully recognizes that his son was the one who murdered him.”

Marinette looked at Chat Noir, the panic on his face, the way his hands shook. She jerked her gaze back to Papillon, angry. “Why are you telling him this?”

“Because he doesn’t want to fight me,” Papillon said, with a small shrug. “Not really. Not if it means killing his own father. Oh, he came here ready to knock me around a little, I suppose, if that’s what it took. But he’s never once, in the entire course of this little misadventure, imagined what he would actually have to do to end this, has he?” Papillon laughed. “Come on, boy. You’re no killer. You don’t have the stomach for this, and we both know it. If you pick a fight with me, it will only end one way—with one of our deaths. You can’t make yourself do this.”

Chat Noir looked down at his staff, trembling in his grip. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to _do_ this! And yet… And yet…

Marinette’s father had almost died in front of him. If he hadn’t pulled the man out of the building with just seconds to spare, Marinette would be fatherless right now. And all over Paris, all over beautiful, crumbling, burning Paris, there was no telling how many people were losing their fathers tonight. He gritted his teeth, feeling tears dangerously close to spilling over.

His father, his real father, had been so right about him. He was over-emotional, always had been, always would be. Which was why this was going to utterly destroy him. He took a step toward the man, reluctantly raising his staff.

“Oh?” Papillon said. “Well then. I suppose you didn’t love him after all.”

_”Shut up,”_ Chat Noir seethed, raising his head to look at the creature that had stolen his father from him.

“Very well,” the man said, reaching up to the lapel of his suit. “I, at least, have no qualms about fighting you. Especially since you’ve so generously brought the ladybug kwami all the way here, up to this very room, for me.” He lifted the lapel, showing Chat Noir the objects pinned to the suit beneath.

The other half of the Ladybug miraculous, glimmering in the light.

And another pin, unpainted, but otherwise identical in shape and size, crafted from the Soh Tahn jewel.

“Ladybug kwami!” Papillon commanded. “Transform me.”

Tikki stiffened as the two earrings lit up, pulling at her. “No!” she yelled. “No, no, no!”

“Tikki!” Marinette cried, reaching for her. But it was too late. Tikki was passing right through Marinette’s grasping hands, intangible, pulled against her will past Marinette, past a horrified Chat Noir, straight into the waiting gems on Papillon’s suit.

Papillon laughed victoriously as the light rolled over him, transforming him, imbuing him with all of Tikki’s strength and creative ability. He poured stolen life energy out to meet it, forcing it to bend to his will. A red business suit, covered in black spots, simple but stylish, exactly something Gabriel Agreste might have designed. Red gloves, red shoes, black tie, red domino mask over his eyes. He flicked the yoyo tauntingly as it formed in his hand, and under the pressure of his life energy, it shuddered, then expanded, growing bigger, growing black spikes.

“Father!” Chat Noir yelled, running forward. He had to get the miraculous off of him, had to get it back toward Marinette before—

The yoyo swiped at him, with enough force to take someone’s head off. He skirted out of the way, wide-eyed, not used to dealing with a yoyo used for such merciless, full-on offensive brutality.

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” Papillon said, beginning to swing the yoyo in slow, menacing circles. “The Ladybug miraculous is mine now. If you weren’t going to give me the other half, then it only made sense to create it, from the same material the original came from. If you do it right, a kwami can still be trapped inside a replacement miraculous. Isn’t that in the spirit of the kwami of creation, after all? And, Adrien, for the benefit of your kwami of destruction…”

He held up his right hand, showing Chat Noir a red, glittering ring, a single empty paw design etched into the face. “I had enough Soh Tahn left over to make one for you too! Now, won’t you be sensible and surrender?”

“Why would I do that?” Chat Noir hissed, angry.

“Because you stand no chance of victory!” Papillon crowed. “The moment your kwami appears, I can pull it into this ring, and then both miraculouses are practically mine anyways. Don’t you get it? If you detransform at any point, you lose. If I knock you out or manage to pull your ring off, you lose. If you use your Cataclysm, five minutes later, you lose!”

“That goes the other way, too,” Chat Noir said, eyeing the lapel of the ladybug-pattern suit. “If I take your miraculous instead…”

“If,” Papillon said. “You won’t. After all, there are so, so many ways to skin a cat.” He began spinning the yoyo faster, an ominous sound whistling out from the string. “You know, for a fashion designer, Gabriel wasn’t very specific with giving me instructions. He didn’t want his son hurt. But you know, I’ve been thinking.” He tapped the ladybug miraculous. “If, after I kill you, I create a _new_ Adrien, technically, there will be a son and he won’t be hurt! I think I’ll make this new one much, much less stubborn and annoying.”

Aiming to kill, he threw the bladed yoyo forcefully at Chat Noir.


	15. Part 15

Nino continued to click and scroll, growing increasingly worried. Peacock was having a very, very difficult time, overwhelmed alone in the streets. And Chat Noir’s communicator had gone dead, so there was no telling if he was okay or not. Things were spiraling out of control, faster than they could do anything about it. And, more personally, he could see lights through the blinds on Alya’s window now, from buildings just across the street that were on fire.

It wouldn’t be long before the fires spread more, and he would probably have to evacuate. Alya’s laptop rested in his lap, ready for when he had to. But he would lose so much functionality the moment he left the powerful desktop, so much chance to help. After all, if he couldn’t get a WiFi signal outside (increasingly possible), he would be as good as useless out there.

He tried to picture being in the street, running for cover, unable to do anything. Hearing Peacock screaming into the communicator on his ear, being overwhelmed and in danger, while he was powerless to do anything to save her. There wasn’t much he could do, even in here, but if coordinating cameras and information gave her even a slightly better chance of coming back to him alright at the end…!

“It is so dark in here. Surely, this cannot be good for your eyes.”

Nino jumped, then swiveled the chair around. “Master Fu? How did you get into Alya’s apartment?”

“The door was unlocked,” the man said, stepping into Alya’s bedroom and looking around at the collages on the walls. He held the big black box in his arms, decorated in Chinese symbols, the remaining miraculouses nestled safely inside. Wayzz hovered over his shoulder, looking solemn as always. “It’s a little careless. I suggest being more careful about it in the future.”

Nino glanced at the screen and toggled over to Camera 63. The entire block where Master Fu’s massage parlor was located had gone up into flames. Oh…

“I don’t know if this place is going to be safe for much longer,” Nino said, “But we can stay here while it is. Stick together, you know?”

“’Safe’ has very little to do with the life of a miraculous holder,” Master Fu said, lifting the box. “But collaboration does. Wayzz and I have been talking, young man. We would like to speak to you now.”

Distracted, Nino tore himself away from the cameras near Alya’s current location, and tried to focus. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Things are a little dangerous out there right now,” Master Fu said. “Your friends are feeling overwhelmed. At this moment, I think we could use all hands helping out, as many people as we can trust. That includes you.”

“I’m trying, man!” Nino said, waving a hand back at the monitors. “As much as I can! I don’t have superpowers, and I’m not even immune to akumas now. This is the best I’ve got to work with!”

Master Fu smiled to himself. As if they didn’t both know that, after the pickle jar test, Nino could probably fend off single akumas trying to possess him just fine. “Many years ago, when I was a child, I came across an old woman, lying in a ditch. She had been beaten and was weak, so I took her into my humble little home, where I lived alone, and tried to tend to her wounds. When she woke again, she told me about the strange bracelet she wore. She explained to me how the miraculous came to be, and told me of seven kwamis, an alliance, who had decided to work together to protect humanity. The bee. The peacock. The fox. The butterfly. The ladybug. The cat. And, the turtle.”

With a small groan of aged exertion, Master Fu lowered the heavy box to the floor. Then straightened, holding up his bracelet for Nino to see. “They all have different skills and things to contribute. The turtle’s powers, compared to some of the others, do not at first seem to be very impressive. But he is old, the oldest of the kwamis, and what comes with that is many, many millennia of knowledge and experience. It takes more practice and skill to use the turtle miraculous effectively than any of the others, but in the hands of a skilled user, often the turtle can become the most useful ally one can have.”

“Then you should help them,” Nino said quickly. “We’re falling apart over here, and… I don’t really know what to do about it.”

“No,” Master Fu said, with a glance at Wayzz. “I am too old to help. There are those who, with the right training, can fight for centuries upon centuries with the help of their miraculous. But I had no training at all, and anyway, I am beyond tired. It is time for a new generation, and a new turtle protector, the miraculous wielded by someone patient, loyal, and occasionally willing to put up with a little pain and frustration.” He smiled at Nino. “Like you, for example.”

“Me?” Nino asked. “But I… I couldn’t…”

“Your friends need your help, don’t they?” Fu asked. “And you need help, for you to help them. You have a pure heart. Even when coerced to do evil, you do it for the sake of others. You will do well, as a host for Wayzz.”

“But what about you?” Nino asked. “You’re that old, and it’s because he’s keeping you alive, right? If I take that away from you…“

“I will probably live another ten years, maybe even twenty if I am careful,” Fu said, not at all concerned about the words he was speaking. “Just enough time to pass what I know on to the next generation. You are very much like I was, young man. It would make me happy, to know that the next generation, at least, will not go in completely lost and without instruction.”

“And you,” Nino asked, glancing toward Wayzz. “You’re okay with this?”

“Yes,” Wayzz said softly. “I think you will make a suitable host. Beyond that…” He floated up, in front of Nino. “There is a friend of mine, Nooroo, being held hostage by Papillon and his dark energy. Things are happening to him right now that no one is considering, that might be worse than anything else Papillon is doing. I beg you to help me save him before it’s too late.”

Nino blew out slowly. Looked at the cameras on the screen. The fires were going to engulf the entire city soon, if something wasn’t done. Airships, dropping bombs. Soldiers, marching through the streets. And, on Camera 19, Peacock, pinned to the ground beneath three heavy-looking villains, thrashing desperately as she tried to fight them off.

“Okay,” he said, focused on her face. “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Master Fu said, sliding the bracelet onto Nino’s arm. “Then I entrust you with the turtle miraculous, and all of the responsibilities that come with it. Do you know how to transform, and what the rules and limits are?”

“I think so,” Nino said standing, “as much as I could get out of that book, anyways. Can you man the computer while I’m gone?”

“Yes,” Master Fu said. “Now go. Quickly!”

Nino nodded and rushed out the door. He pulled open the back door of Alya’s apartment, looking out over the fire escape, at the city falling apart in front of him. He took a breath. “This is crazy,” he said, looking down at the bracelet on his wrist.

“Crazy or not,” Wayzz said, following him out. “Alya is waiting for you. And so is Nooroo, and everyone else out there.”

“Okay,” Nino said, turning himself in the direction of Camera 19, the first place he would need to go. “…Okay. Wayzz, transform me!”

As a bright light flashed through the blinds, Master Fu studied the computer, frowning. “So. This is one of those email things they talk about or something, right?”

 

.:|:.

 

Chat Noir threw himself out of the yoyo’s way, tucking into a somersault. He recovered, then came up running, baton out and extending toward Papillon’s face.

Papillon laughed, yanked the yoyo back. It cleaved through the end of Chat Noir’s baton, sending a spray of sparks into the air.

Chat Noir retracted his baton, stunned, touching the shorn, jagged end. He hadn’t known his baton _could_ be broken. The screen flickered wildly, malfunctioning.

“Getting distracted this early?” Papillon called. Incoming whistling.

Chat Noir dropped to the floor just in time. The yoyo gouged a deep hole in the metal wall behind him, before being yanked back again. He clenched his teeth and hopped up, running in a wide circle around Papillon.

“Trying to get behind me,” Papillon said, sweeping the yoyo low this time, forcing Chat Noir to jump over it. “Cheap. It won’t work.” He turned, on the inside of Chat Noir’s circle, swinging momentum into the yoyo before throwing it again.

A thrown metal pipe whistled past, two feet from his head. “Dangit,” Marinette hissed from behind him.

His eyes flicked backward, annoyed by the girl. Changing his mind at the last moment, he threw the yoyo for her instead.

“No!” Chat Noir yelled. He extended his broken staff, swiping it at Papillon’s feet, knocking him to the ground. The yoyo swung wide, pulled off course.

Papillon clenched his jaw, yanking the yoyo. He concentrated, and the yoyo shook before expanding even more, now four feet in diameter, spikes large and lethal.

“Not fair,” Chat Noir gasped, irked. “You’re cheating.”

“Life energy,” Papillon said, standing. “Nothing unfair about it. I am willing to sacrifice my own lifespan to win, and you’re not. Victory will go to the maximum effort.”

“Except you’re still cheating,” Chat Noir gritted. He tried to retract his baton, had difficulty, the half-broken object jamming somewhere inside its internal mechanisms. He shook it viciously, until it finally clicked, whirred, and slid back to its normal size. “It’s not just your life energy. You’ve stolen it, from so many people.”

“Heh. Well.” Papillon lifted the oversized yoyo, then threw it again. “Victory also goes to the ruthless.”

Chat Noir ducked and sidestepped. Then ran forward, trying to close the distance, to get in close while the yoyo was still out. He lifted his baton to strike, yelling—

Papillon’s hand snatched out, grabbing him by the front of his uniform. With impossible strength, he hurled Chat Noir up into the air, then threw him.

Chat Noir crashed into the airship control bank, sparks showering from crushed equipment. A thousand alarms and flashing lights began going off, as he struggled to pick himself up from between dented metal and entangling bits of wire. Ooooowwwwww.

“Chat Noir!” Marinette cried.

He groaned, pushing himself up. “I’m f-fine, my lady. I’ve been through worse cat-astrophes.” Vision swimming, he lifted his head, trying to focus on Papillon, who was—

Whosefistwasrightinhisface. Pain exploded, pulsing out from his nose, and his head snapped back, stars pounding in his vision. He felt strong hands gripping his hair, trying to pull him up by it. Roaring in anger and hurt, he kicked out, blind, clawing. The man’s grip loosened, and he dropped, then rolled away, with a final strike with his baton toward the man’s legs.

_BANG!_

The entire airship shook violently, and they all went flying, knocked into the air. Chat Noir clawed out wildly, grabbing on to the first thing he could—a pipe running along the ceiling. He hung from it, looking around. Outside of the windows on one side was stone.

The airship, controls damaged, had crashed into a building. A horrible scraping sound filled the cabin, and he could feel a dropping sensation, like riding an elevator, the damaged ship about to slide away from the building and plummet. They had to get off.

“Chat Noir!” Marinette yelled, from where she crouched halfway outside of a window. She waved toward him, urging him to follow.

He swung himself back and forth, dangling from the pipe, then kicked out and let go, dropping toward her. She caught his hand, and pulled him up, out the window with her.

They landed on a parapet outside, watching as the large zeppelin began to fall down the side. Chat Noir looked up behind him, recognizing the large, ancient spires and stained glass. Notre Dame, one of its huge belltowers damaged from the impact. Chat Noir crouched beside Marinette, whipping his head around as the zeppelin creaked and groaned on its way to the ground. Had his father gotten out alive? Or was he still inside, about to be—

The huge yoyo slammed into the stone right beneath their feet, shattering it. They started to fall. Chat Noir grabbed Marinette’s arm and pulled them back, away from the crumbling edge.

The yoyo zipped up from below, wrapping around a stone gargoyle high above. Papillon swung himself up on it, landing on a ledge many feet above them. He tugged on the yoyo, and the gargoyle shattered, beheaded.

Chat Noir exhaled sharply. Glanced at Marinette to make sure she was alright, then extended his shuddering baton, kicking himself up toward his father.

Under the watchful eyes of the statues of the saints, Chat Noir and Papillon ran toward each other, weapons raised. Papillon hurled the yoyo for Chat Noir. Chat Noir sprang to the side, watching it go past painfully close. He tried to rebound, to swing his baton at Papillon. But Papillon, zipped past him, pulled by the string of the yoyo. Chat Noir turned to chase after him. Noticed, too late, the damaged, splintered structure above that Papillon shattered with one well-aimed yoyo strike.

He heard Marinette gasp before he saw anything. And then all he heard was the roar of crashing stone and other building materials, falling down on top of him. Pain in his shoulder. Darkness. Stunned, he lay under the rubble for a moment. Then struggled.

His head popped out from beneath a broken wooden plank, looking around. He was pinned down, beneath a small heap of building debris. Papillon stood six feet away, twirling his yoyo. He couldn’t see her, but he knew that Marinette was watching from a platform below.

“Well well well,” Papillon said casually. “You survived. Isn’t that annoying.”

Chat Noir twisted, trying to pull away. No use. There was too much debris on top of him, too heavy for him to lift. He strained, struggling anyways, watching as Papillon lifted his yoyo again.

“What?” Papillon asked. “Not going to use your Cataclysm to free yourself?”

“I’m not stupid,” Chat Noir spat back. “I’m not just _giving_ you Plagg by using my power.” Besides, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t use his Cataclysm. Plagg was still too weak, hurt from the time Marinette’s dark energy had torn his suit apart. But he couldn’t admit that to Papillon, or he would be dead in seconds.

“Are you sure?” Papillon asked, giving the yoyo one experimental flick. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you, and then have your miraculous anyways.”

Chat Noir continued to struggle, not answering. Drat it, drat it, drat it! Why wasn’t the heap of junk shifting off of him even a little? There was a steel bar across his chest, the major one holding him down, that he just couldn’t move at all. He watched with dread as Papillon lifted the yoyo.

“…Ah, you got me,” Papillon said. “If I kill you, then I have to go to the work of digging you out to get the miraculous. I want you to Cataclysm out for me and save me the trouble. And I know just the way to make you do it.” He turned, suddenly, looking down at Marinette, far below.

Marinette’s eyes widened as Papillon looked at her. Immediately, she reached down, picking up a loose brick. It was going to be useless against the giant murder yoyo, and she had nowhere to run on her little ledge. But she would go down fighting, at least.

“Father, don’t!” Chat Noir yelled. “I’m the one you’re fighting. Turn back around!”

“Not if you won’t fight me, scaredy-cat,” Papillon said, lifting his yoyo. “Then I have to choose another opponent.”

“I want to fight you!” Chat Noir said. “I’m right here! _Fight me._ ”

“Then use your Cataclysm!” Papillon hissed. “Use it, or forfeit the girl! In ten… nine…!”

Chat Noir pulled at his arms, struggling to free them from the brick.

“Eight!”

He tugged, as hard as he could! He didn’t care if it hurt him, if he couldn’t ever use his arms again after this, if he could just…!

“Seven!”

The stupid trash wouldn’t _move!_

“Six!”

Stirring. His ring was vibrating. He went still. Oh no.

“Five!”

He wasn’t doing it. Black energy was swirling around his hand, trapped somewhere below, but he wasn’t making it happen!

“Four!”

If the Cataclysm discharged, Plagg would be—

“ _Three,_ Adrien!”

“Stop it, Plagg,” he whispered. “You’re hurt. Don’t—“

“Two!” Papillon lifted his yoyo, aiming directly for the girl trapped on the ledge below.

The Cataclysm roared out from his hand. It obliterated the pile of debris. But, over-powerful, it kept going, down through the floor, down through the beams beneath, sending a pulse of destructive energy straight down through the entire tower. Papillon stumbled as the entire structure began to shake and move beneath him, beginning to collapse.

Chat Noir, now free, sprang forward. Five minutes! He only had five minutes! He ran straight for the edge, then threw himself off, reaching out for Marinette.

She leaned out, grabbing him. His baton was gone. But as she held onto him, he bounded up without it, springing out for the roof on the other side, away from the collapsing part of the building. He had never done a Cataclysm that powerful before! He hadn’t thought he had been capable of it. Maybe he still wasn’t. That Cataclysm had been activated from inside of him, without his willing input.

His claws caught onto the edge of the roof. He tried to push Marinette up first, got her halfway up onto the roof, when the yoyo struck him from behind. He cried out.

“Chat Noir!” Marinette screamed, reaching out for him.

It was too late. He was falling. He could feel his suit shifting around him, taking the brunt of the damage. But still, he was _hurt_. He could feel the wound, deep inside of him, pain radiating out as the wind whistled in his ears. He watched, stunned, as he fell away from Marinette’s terrified face, bleeding, _hurting_. He was going to hit the ground, and then—

Papillon didn’t allow him to hit the ground. Papillon, zipping by on his yoyo string, grabbed him. He felt himself being pulled along, lifted up higher, then slammed into a wall suddenly.

Weak, feeling his disguise fall away, he crumbled to the stone walkway below it. He lay, gasping and too injured to move, staring up at the sky.

Papillon landed, somewhere nearby. He heard the crunch of boots hitting stone, but couldn’t turn to look. Everything hurt. He wasn’t sure how bad the wounds were. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He jerked his eyes down to his hand, laying on the dust-covered walkway beside him, human and vulnerable. He couldn’t tell if Plagg had come out of his miraculous yet, but he must have, surely, after all of that damage.

The ring was acting strangely. It flickered between gray and black, as though not sure what color it should commit to being. Had he broken it, like the staff? Gray. Black. Gray.

Papillon loomed over him, looking down at him. “I win,” he said softly.

Black. Gray.

Papillon looked around for a moment, from high on the towers of Notre Dame, at the city below him, at the world stretching around him. Soon, it would be his world, free to create and destroy however he liked, to shape in his own image. He smiled, then lowered to one knee beside Adrien. Reached up, pressing one red-gloved hand to the boy’s throat. Began to squeeze.

Adrien looked up at his father’s face, wide-eyed, as he began to choke. He struggled, painfully lifting one hand up to the man’s arm. But there was too much pain, and he couldn’t even summon the strength to push the man’s grip away.

Black. Gray. Black. And… Was that…?

No. Plagg was gone. He could feel it.

Adrien cried out as the grip tightened even more, the sound near-silent and rasping from lack of air. He couldn’t breathe! Papillon’s eyes narrowed as he pressed down harder, no mercy in his eyes, no feeling.

Gray…

Black…

Green. Just a hint of it, the paw print lighting up for a quick moment. Plagg was gone, and yet…

Adrien looked up into his father’s eyes, so barely disguised behind the domino mask. Felt the unnatural strength in the hand throttling him. Life energy. Determination. The willingness to sacrifice to win. For Marinette. For his friends. For the entire world.

“C-c-c…” So hard to breath. So hard to get any sound out at all. “C-cat…”

“What’s this?” Papillon asked, amused. “More cat puns? Right until the very end?”

His vision was turning gray. Gray, and black, and gray, and black…

And green.

“Cataclysm!” he whispered, with the last of his air.

Without Plagg, with only his own life energy, he pushed his hand up, toward the lapel on Papillon’s suit, grabbing at the Soh Tahn miraculous. So weak, but it was enough. It shattered beneath his fingertips.

The sudden additional pain of spending even a little of his own life energy was enough to make Adrien black out. He didn’t see what happened next. Didn’t see Papillon, grabbing suddenly, frantically at the crumbling fragments of the little jewel. Or Tikki popping out of it. Or Tikki, grabbing the other earring, snapping it off of the suit, and hurling it, with all of her strength, for Marinette.

Marinette had been watching from above, had seen it all. She leaned down and snatched it out of the air with fury in her eyes. She stared at Papillon as she pressed it to her ear, shaking with rage. “Tikki,” she called. “Transform me!”


	16. Part 16

Light surged around Marinette’s body, reaching, changing. It shuddered painfully, here and there, struggling with the remaining dark energy repulsing it. For a nervous moment, she thought it wasn’t going to adhere. Determined, she focused, on what she had to do, on Papillon standing below, on Adrien on the ground beside him. After a last shiver of hesitation, the lights suddenly pushed forward, breaking through, overwhelming. Red and black poured over Marinette’s skin, filling her with an achingly familiar power that she hadn’t felt for more than a month.

The moment her yoyo appeared, she pulled it off of her waist, and threw it for a row of stone carvings on the other side of the chasm between towers. She jumped, swinging down toward Papillon, absolutely furious.

Papillon calmly side-stepped the kick aimed toward his face, clenching his fist around the Soh Tahn ring. “Cat kwami! I command you to trans—“

Ladybug swiveled in mid-air, delivering a turning kick to his gut. He gasped, doubling over.

A pivot, and then Ladybug landed with a small spring, yoyo snapping back to her hand. She grabbed Papillon, pulling him upright, managing to lift him slightly off the ground by a few centimeters despite the height difference. One hand reached down, grabbing for the butterfly brooch.

A roar of flapping wings, like a thousand pigeons taking off all at once. But Ladybug knew, even without looking, that they weren’t pigeons. Oh no.

She threw Papillon, darting out of the way as butterflies—a _horde_ of them—suddenly crashed over the top of the wall, swarming at her with enough force to knock a car over. She twirled the yoyo behind her as she ran from them, trying to keep them back. Papillon had also begun running the second she let go of him, and she couldn’t see him now. She glanced around, looking for him.

Adrien was lying so still, on the walkway just five meters away… She couldn’t even see if he was breathing.

“Cat kwami!” Papillon’s voice called. Ladybug realized suddenly that she had let herself get distracted, and turned toward the voice. “Transform m—“

The words were cut off by the yoyo connecting with Papillon’s face. He stepped toward her, furious, concentrating. More butterflies swarmed around Ladybug, the flapping of their wings forming a near-literal hurricane whose winds pushed her this way and that, trying to knock her off of the narrow walkway so high above the ground. Ladybug crouched in the storm of wings pelting at her, aiming before throwing the yoyo again.  
Papillon jerked back too late to stop his arm from being lassoed. Ladybug yanked on the string, pulling him toward her, into the cloud of battering insects. He yelled suddenly, pulling his free arm back before knocking it toward her.

Ladybug cried out as the punch connected hard enough to send her flying. At the last second, she managed to grab onto the edge of the walkway before she could be sent flying off. She had underestimated him. He was untransformed, and looked just like normal Gabriel Agreste, a man who shouldn’t know such indelicate things as how to throw a good punch. But he was _strong_ , the punch enhanced beyond what any normal human should have been capable of. Even detransformed, he was still akumatized, and everything that came with that.

Papillon stepped toward the edge where she dangled by her fingertips. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her, then crouched, reaching out for her earrings. She kicked away from the wall, yoyo flying out for a gargoyle, and swung to a different rooftop a good distance away.

“Cat kwami!” he yelled, holding out his ring. “Tr—“

A yoyo strike. He barely side-stepped in time. “Trans—“

Another yoyo strike. He clutched his arm where it had been hit, teeth clenched. “Tra—“

Another yoyo strike knocked him over entirely. He wasn’t going to be allowed to speak.

“Rragh!” Frustrated, he knelt on the stone, concentrating. His body began to glow, pulling on the life energy stored inside of him. Black akuma energy poured out from his heart, pumping through his veins. As Ladybug watched from a distance, he slumped over, and began to shudder and change. Wings sprouted from his back, slowly uncurling around him, translucent black. They were vaguely butterfly-shaped, until he pushed his life energy to expand them more, and they grew and took on jagged, sharp edges. His hands curled into claws, energy crackling between his fingers. He focused on them, increasing the flow of life energy, forming a bullet of concentrated, condensed electricity tight within his palm. It stretched wide, dagger-like, until he suddenly turned and hurled the bolt at the stone right below where Ladybug was standing.

The explosion knocked Ladybug into the air, her ears ringing, her vision temporarily scrambled. She threw her yoyo out for something, anything, until she felt it connect and the string go tight. She swung away, shaking her head, trying to recover.

Papillon lifted himself off the ground, testing out his new wings with slow, steady strokes, already forming a new bolt between his hands. His eyes tracked her as she swung between cathedral structures, aiming. He would use it all, every last bit of energy he had, to enhance himself for this final fight. After all, if he lost, what would be the point of saved life energy? He poured it through his veins and fed it into his akuma with reckless determination. Every second she wasted, he would grow stronger and faster. It might kill him at the end, but he would take her, his most hated enemy, down with him at the very least.

He stretched a bolt of electricity between his hands, and tossed it at the glimpse of red in the distance.

 

.:|:.

 

The superheroine’s eyes were wide with panic as she backed further into the alley’s dead-end, corner. Blocking off her escape, three akumatized soldiers lifted their weapons, slowly advancing on her. Defiant, she lifted the twin peacock-themed bladed fans she held in each hand, ready to strike with them. But her shoulders were tense, already preparing to be tackled and overwhelmed.

Nino poked his head around the corner, recognizing immediately the blue and green figure with the peacock-themed waist cape. His eyes narrowed and he drew back for a second.

Compared to the flashy, intricate details of Peacock’s suit, his own was relatively plain, all simple lines and functionality. If not for the shell-shaped shield resting on a holder strapped to his back, and the green mask around his eyes, he almost could have walked down the streets of Paris on a normal day without getting a second glance. He was grateful, though—the dark green of his outfit was probably second only to Chat Noir’s when it came to moving stealthily through the shadows, and already he had been saved three times from being attacked from behind by the turtle shell.

He glanced at the screen on the bracelet around his wrist, frowning at the map displayed on it. Funny, going by camera positions, he had thought Alya would be much further out than this right now. He was lucky he had managed to find her already. He reached back, freeing the shield from his back with a small click, then suddenly threw it around the corner.

It bounced off of a wall, then hit one supervillain, knocking him back into one of his allies. Nino was running around the corner the next second, jumping over a pile of trash and snow. He kicked out at the nearest villain, still amazed by the instinctive fighting moves, which he would have never known in his civilian form. A punch to the face, a kick to a knee. Grab the shield off of the ground, slam it at the recovering villains. Almost before he could blink, it was over, the three villains knocked out cold at his feet. He exhaled, coming down from the adrenaline rush. “Okay. That’s pretty cool.”

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

He turned toward Peacock, confused. “Alya? It’s me, Nino.” He grinned, lowering the shield away from his body. “I don’t know what it is about a little domino mask, that keeps people from recognizing us, but—“

“Please, mercy…” Peacock said, pressing her back to the wall. “I’m all alone and defenseless out here! I can’t possibly take on three of you at once.”

“Three?” Nino glanced at the thugs at his feet, then stepped forward. “What’s gotten into you? It’s not like you to be intimidated by _anything_ , let alone…” He reached out for her hand, intending to calm her panic. Instead his hand passed right through, dissolving hers into a cloud of orange dust.   
He looked up at her face, at the brown eyes that were staring right past him, so full of terror. Nonplussed, he swiped his hand through her middle, watching her dissolve into more orange smoke.

“Hey! Buddy,” a voice called down from the rooftops above. “Could you, I don’t know, _not_?!”

Nino jerked, looking up toward the fox-eared silhouette peering over the edge of one of the roofs. “Volpina? You survived?”

“Not exactly.” She pushed off, jumping, and landed in front of him. Snapped her fingers, and the rest of the Peacock illusion vanished. “Seriously, how would you like it if I went crashing through all of _your_ carefully-laid traps? Two seconds more, and I would have been ready to hit those guys.”

“Sorry,” he said, looking around. There were more Volpinas, on all sides, now that he looked—hiding behind trash cans, on other rooftops, skirting around the end of the alley. She was being extra cautious. “How did you get away from Papillon? I was sure he was removing your akuma when we left.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Volpina hissed. She shook her head, arms folded. “I found another way out, no thanks to your little group. The fox miraculous and I have made a deal.”

“Really.” He eyed her necklace, suspicious. “Except that I saw the fox miraculous in Master Fu’s box literally thirty minutes ago.”

“Sure you did,” she said, with a fangy smile. “And speaking of miraculouses. What are you supposed to be, Gamera?”

“That’s that turtle guy, from the old films, right?” Nino shrugged. “Sure. Why not? It’s a better name than anything I was going to come up with, I guess.”

“You weren’t supposed to actually get the reference, nerd.” She bent down, starting to collect the assortment of weapons the villains had been carrying. “Anyways, I’ve got dozens of Peacocks and Chat Noirs getting chased by supervillains in this area, and I’m the only one solid enough to hit them while they’re distracted. So I would _appreciate_ it if you wouldn’t go messing it up with all of the future ones you encounter, okay? I’m distracted enough coordinating this many without also having to deal with renegade heroes in a half shell.”

“I’m just trying to find the real Peacock,” Nino, or Gamera, said. “You should come with me, too, Lila. If we combine skills, we’ll be able to help a wider area. You are trying to help, right?”

She straightened, arms full of swords, guns, and a single Morningstar. An exasperated sigh. “…I really want to say no, I don’t need your help. But Paris is really, really big. …Okay, shelled wonder. What can you do, that would make it worth working with you?”

He smiled. “This.” Suddenly, he leaned forward, grabbing onto the chain of her necklace.

“Hey!” she yelled, jerking back, weapons clattering all around her. “Hands off!” She pulled her miraculous out of his grip, fuming. Then stopped, looking at the strange greenish-white glow emanating from the chain. “What did you do?”

“It’s my power,” he said, clipping the shell into its holder on his back. “Aside from this combat shield, I don’t really have anything special for myself, like Ladybug’s Lucky Charm or Chat Noir’s Cataclysm. Instead, I boost powers for other miraculouses, in different ways.” He nodded toward a different Volpina, watching them from behind a snow-covered trash can. “Hit her, really quick.”

Impatient, Volpina reached back with her flute and struck out at her doppelganger. Her eyes widened as the flute actually connected, stopped by contact with the Volpina’s side.

“I have a few different ones I can do with you,” Gamera said, pleased. “That one makes your illusions tangible to all senses, not just sight. They can hit things, too, now, and won’t disappear unless they get really damaged. Neat, yeah?”

“Huh,” Volpina said, head tilted as she poked at her other self. “So you’re like a support class.”

“Now who’s the nerd?”

She bristled, turning on him. “Still you, turtle boy. Believe me, if I didn’t have bigger fish to fry right now—“

“Which is why we should get going,” Gamera said. “What I just did will last maybe ten minutes before I have to give you a recharge. We really need to find Peacock before then. I have an idea, if you’re here, something we can try.”

Volpina sighed, giving in. “Okay. Fine. I know where the real Peacock is. Follow me.” She took off, bounding up a fire escape until she was on the rooftops again, a small army of Volpinas following.

Struggling to keep up, Gamera chased after her.

 

.:|:.

 

Ladybug jumped from one parapet to another, feeling the explosion narrowly missing her feet. Flying Papillon was _fast_ , and she could swear he was only getting faster the longer this went on.

She grabbed on to a damaged outcropping of stone ahead, pushing herself up higher along the damaged belltower. At the very least, for the moment, Papillon had stopped trying to steal Plagg, either because he was distracted, or because he realized that the moment he did, he would lose his wings. The wings were annoying!

Almost as annoying as the javelin-like energy spikes he wouldn’t stop hurling at her. She hadn’t been hit yet, but she was having closer and closer calls.

As she swung around a corner, she caught a brief glimpse of Paris, stretching out to the horizon, burning in the moonlight. So many people down there… More of them would be hurt or even killed, the longer she messed around up here. And Papillon was only getting stronger and faster, more dangerous. She had to end this quickly, even if it meant doing something a little risky.

She threw her yoyo for the top of the belltower overhead, swinging herself up and inside. She ducked inside one of Notre Dame’s ancient, gigantic bells for a moment for cover, exhaling shakily. Five minutes. She would have to end this in five minutes. But more than anything, right now, she needed _something_ to help her. Papillon was just going to keep hunting her down if she didn’t get help, and in a close-range combat situation, his superior size and strength would help him win. She couldn’t keep fighting at a distance forever.

“Lucky Charm!” she cried, tossing the yoyo up. Ladybugs and light poured out, and she held her hands out to catch whatever object would appear.  
Nothing. Nothing appeared.

She looked around the inside of the bell, then at the floor around her. Nothing had fallen out? And yet, her earrings had definitely just chirped at her just then, warning her that her time was limited. Had the Lucky Charm failed somehow? It had never failed before!

Panicking, she rolled out from under the bell, some innate instinct warning her to throw the yoyo and swing away. Sure enough, seconds after her feet left the belltower, there was an explosion behind her, Papillon throwing another bolt at where she had been. She swung across the dizzying gap between Notre Dame’s twin belltowers, eyes casting about.

Belltower #1.

Belltower #2.

Papillon, flying behind her, fast in pursuit.

The yoyo string in her grip.

Got it.

The moment she hit the side of the other belltower, she was springing it off again. She paused as she swung past a gargoyle, looping the string around its neck. Then kept going. She began swinging between belltowers, dodging Papillon’s strikes, looping her string here and there. A web was beginning to form behind her, the yoyo string’s trail glistening in the moonlight, almost tangled in the air between the two high belltowers.

She had never tested, before, just how far her yoyo string could stretch. It seemed to be infinite. She desperately hoped that was correct.

Crackling, from overhead. Papillon was hovering above, looking down at her as she pulled her string back and forth between different parts of the building. Impatient with chasing her, he had been building a gigantic energy spike between his hands, four meters long, more powerfully charged than the ones before. He roared, throwing it toward her.

She swung sharply to the side, narrowly dodging. It crackled and hissed as it passed by, lethally powerful. For a moment, she felt relief.

Until she heard the explosion below, where it had kept going and landed. Heat and flames and chunks of flying rock from the landings below, clouds of dust. And suddenly she remembered.

“Adrien!” she cried, dangling from her string.

The walkway where he had been laying before was gone, completely destroyed by the blast from Papillon’s javelin. She could see the area where it had been, in the dust and clearing smoke, now just a burning crater. For a moment, the world slowed around her, her heart pounding in her chest, tears stinging in her eyes.

Papillon was laughing. Above her, that monster was _laughing!_

Enraged, she turned, swinging herself up, on top of one of the strings she had spun out between the towers. With more focus than ever before, through tear-clouded vision, she threw her yoyo at him. He dodged, still _laughing_. Absolutely determined, she began throwing her yoyo in a complicated pattern, fast and furious, jumping and leaping and swinging harder than she had ever attempted before.

At first, Papillon dodged her strikes, sneering. Then he slowed, noticing that her strikes weren’t even coming close to hitting him. He hovered, watching her in confusion. She kept throwing the yoyo, at gargoyles and pieces of debris and all sorts of random things, looping the string around them before casting off again.

“You’ve gone mad with grief, then,” he said, watching her swing by. “How utterly pitiful.”

He began to chase after her again, throwing energy bolts here and there. It was getting more and more complicated, to fly around in the increasingly intricate web, but he didn’t mind. It was amusing, to watch her run from him, so desperate and clearly grief-addled.

He grinned as he spotted her ahead, still jumping around seemingly randomly, tears still falling from her eyes. She was too upset to see it, but he was starting to outmaneuver her. A few more movements, and he would have her in a corner. Preparing another larger-than-normal energy javelin, he soared after her, thirsty for the kill.

 

.:|:.

 

Ten on one. This was a new record, for her.

Peacock pushed down with her dual fans, using the generated updraft to kick her two or three meters in the air. She kicked out at the supervillains charging her, then swiped with a fan.

Good. That had bought her a little distance. She twirled around, closing one fan, then snapping it open rapidly toward one of the enemies. Three feather-shaped projectiles shot out from the fan’s folds, hitting the enemies behind her and shocking and stinging them viciously.

She pushed down with the fans again. It wasn’t true flight, but when she had them extended to their full length like this, she could use them to glide or to push her up a little ways. She grabbed onto the street lamp, then swung herself up on top. More villains were swarming in, from the surrounding streets. She had picked a bad neighborhood to be caught in. Having the high ground wouldn’t help her for long—soon they would swarm her, and she wouldn’t be able to fight so many off, not this time. She struck down on a grasping hand with one fan, kicked out at a face, and braced herself for one last brawl. One more quick close and open, to try to keep them at a distance—

The feathers that the fan spit out were _huge_. When they hit the enemies below, they didn’t just sting—they exploded. She watched the villains flying in every direction below, confused. Her fans had never been able to do that before. And now they were glowing, with a strange greenish-white energy—

“Alya!”

She whirled around on top of the lamppost, frowning. _”Nino?_ What are you wearing?”

“Long story,” he called, waving a turtle-shell-shaped shield at her from a nearby rooftop. “Volpina, do you mind?”

“Ugh, why not?” a voice called. Suddenly, dozens of Volpinas were swarming in from below, leaping on the supervillains that had been attacking Peacock seconds before.

Peacock pushed off with her fans, gliding toward Gamera’s rooftop. “What are you doing here? I was wondering why my communicator went dead. Do you have any idea what I assumed must have happened to you?”

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “Things got kinda crazy. I’ll explain later, I promise. For now, though, I’ve got a plan. You know the radio tower?”

She turned, glancing at the structure in the distance, so tall that it loomed over the other buildings surrounding it. Right now, in the darkness, it was just a silhouette. “Yeah? Why?”

“Follow me over,” he said, backing up before running toward the edge of the roof, and jumping. “That’s where we’re going to start fixing Paris.”

 

.:|:.

 

He had tricked her, outmaneuvered her. He was so _agile_ on those ragged wings, somehow, and she had been concentrated, on trailing the yoyo string where it had to go, leaving just enough slack behind her. There had been a statue, ahead in an alcove, that was perfectly placed, and she had ducked into it to loop the string around the statue’s base. Her earring had beeped, losing one of its spots, and suddenly remembering, she had turned around to look for Papillon’s current location.

Now he had her. She was backed into the alcove, stone on three sides, Papillon on the fourth. Nowhere to run. Defiant, she threw the free end of her yoyo for him, expecting him to duck and leave an opening for her to dart out.

He caught it instead, gripping the yoyo with one clawed hand. He grinned at her, and poured crackling electric energy into it. It ran down the string, and then she was yelling, jerking away from the pain, barely able to let go of the voltage coming off of the weapon.

Papillon laughed and threw the yoyo down for the ground, out of her reach. He spread his hands, forming another energy bolt between them, aiming for the girl pinned in the alcove.

_Thwack!_

The metal baton slammed down from above, hitting Papillon hard. The akumatized man went flying, a look of surprise on his face. Ladybug stared at the baton, red with black spots, not understanding. Slowly, she looked up.

“What’s wrong?” he said, crouching on the roof overhang above, smirking. “It’s not often you’re speechless. Cat got your tongue?”

“Chat Noir!” she cried, grabbing onto his baton. Or at least, he seemed to be! His suit was the wrong color, red with black spots, as was his baton. But his face, beneath the mask, was Adrien, alive and well. “I don’t understand, I… I thought he shot you!”

“I came to just in time to dodge it,” he said, flicking his wrist. The baton began to withdraw to its normal size, pulling her up to him with it. He looked down at himself, the Ladybug pattern on his outfit. “I don’t get it either. Suddenly I was wide awake, all Chat Noir-et-Rouge, and the pain was gone. Did you do something, my lady?”

“The Lucky Charm,” she said softly, landing next to him. She reached out, touching his shoulder, to make sure that he was real. “Of course… It didn’t give me an object this time. What I needed, more than anything else, to defeat Papillon… It’s you.”

A roar from below. Fast, faster than before, Papillon soared up suddenly, electricity crackling all around him. _”Ladybug!”_

Chat Noir blew out sharply, swiveling his baton. “Then we’d better start, partner. You’ve only got three spots left.” He leaned out, looking down at the web of yoyo string she had laid out between the two belltowers. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes,” she said, blushing slightly. “It’s childish, I know, but—“

“No, no, it’s a good idea.” He clapped her on the shoulder, smiling at her. “I’m honored, actually. I’ll get him in the middle. You just get your yoyo string back.” He pushed his baton out, pole-vaulting into the air suddenly, kicking out for Papillon.

Ladybug jumped off the edge, reaching out for the trailing yoyo string.

Papillon, high above, dodged Chat Noir’s kick. “You,” he seethed, shaking with anger. His limbs were elongating under his akuma’s pull, spikes beginning to push free here and there. “How are you still alive?!”

“You know what they say,” Chat Noir said, dangling from one of Ladybug’s strings. “Cats and nine lives, am I right?”

“Then you’re rapidly approaching the end of your luck,” Papillon said, pulling a ball of electricity into one hand. “No matter. I’ll kill you as many times as it takes!”

Chat Noir let go of the string, letting himself drop just before Papillon released the pent-up energy. It was official. The man wasn’t even matching his father’s speech patterns anymore. Wherever Gabriel Agreste might be, somewhere deep inside, he wasn’t awake, couldn’t possibly be aware of what his body was doing.

He had to stop holding out for mercy, for reconnecting with the man. He had to stop holding back.

He landed on a lower string, wobbled for balance for a moment, then began running along it. He twirled his staff overhead, blocking another energy burst. “Cats play with butterflies all the time, Papillon!” he called, feeling more than seeing the passing butterfly-shaped shadow overhead. “It doesn’t end well for the butterfly.”

“It will this time.”

An energy blast. Chat Noir barely somersaulted out of the way, thrown off kilter.

Papillon slammed down from above, knocking Chat Noir off of the string. “I’m faster than you,” he hissed.

Chat Noir was falling. He clawed out, grabbing at a passing string, only to be slammed into again. Papillon grabbed him, lifting him up. “I’m _stronger_ than you.”

Chat Noir deployed his baton straight into the man’s chest. The man gasped at the sudden strike, and Chat Noir went flying backwards, towards the center of the web. He landed on a crossroad of strings, bouncing on them as he tested their durability. They were _very_ high up.

Papillon reached down, grabbing a string, and poured voltage through it. Chat Noir cried out, feeling himself shocked. He collapsed for a moment, shuddering, trying to recover.

Papillon, amused, flew toward him, growing an energy javelin between his hands. One final one, a big one, to finish the cat off once and for all. “I’m smarter than you,” he said, lifting it. Check mate.

“Maybe,” Chat Noir hissed. “But you’re still not better than her.”

Papillon paused. “What?”

Ladybug, far below, yanked on the string suddenly, with all of her might. Above, the string’s lead, where it had been looped around and around various points on the belltowers, drew tight. And the Cat’s Cradle, so carefully constructed around the building, contracted suddenly around its center. Papillon yelled in surprise, as yard after yard of yoyo string wrapped around him, pinning him, immobile, in the middle.

“No!” Papillon yelled, struggling. “You… You _insolent_ …!”

Chat Noir pulled himself back up, on top of the strings, shaking off the hurt. After a moment, he stood, and walked toward the man trapped at the center of the constricted web. Papillon was clenching his hand tightly around the Soh Than ring, too tightly for it to be easily pulled off. Chat Noir shrugged, then slammed his baton into the man’s hand. Papillon roared in pain as the ring shattered under the force of the impact.

“It… It doesn’t matter!” Papillon said, frantic. “Nooroo! Transform me!”

Chat Noir stiffened. He had forgotten about the butterfly miraculous! He gripped his baton, steeling himself.

Nothing happened. “Nooroo?” Papillon called, looking around. “Didn’t you hear me? Transform me at once! Why aren’t you responding?!” The man concentrated, trying to summon butterflies, or supervillains, or anything at all. Nothing was working! His miraculous seemed to have gone dead, even the stone at its center dull, having lost its luster and shine.

Ladybug zipped up to join him, yoyo in hand. Two spots left. “Are you okay, Chat Noir? It looked like he got you for a moment there.”

“Nothing I can’t shake off,” he said, holding out his hand to help her up. “Thank you, Ladybug. You did very well. The important thing was that we caught him.” He took a breath, looking down at his father. “Now the question is… What do we do with him?”

The man’s heart. If Papillon hadn’t been lying, it had to be his heart. If the Lucky Charm gave him all of his regular abilities, then he should have a Cataclysm available to use. …And yet…

Ladybug looked at Chat Noir, the struggle on his face. “I’ve been thinking,” she said quickly. “Maybe we don’t have to go… you know… that route. We could just remove his miraculous. Couldn’t we?” She took a breath. “If he loses all control over the butterfly miraculous, then maybe he’ll lose his control over the akumas, too. Including his own. Gabriel might return. It’s worth a try, right?”

“Nice try,” Papillon said, not looking at them. “But Gabriel has already made his choice. He drained so much of his life energy, before I started using stolen energy to make up for it. He has pitifully little of his own left now. This brooch is all that is keeping him alive now. If you remove it, he will last five seconds, if he’s lucky, before he runs out. Remove it, or stab me in the heart. It’s the same either way.”

Chat Noir looked down at the man, full of dread.

“Well?” Papillon asked. “This won’t end, as long as I’m alive. If you spare me, you’ll have all of the suffering of Paris on your hands. There’s only one ethical thing to do, isn’t there? You’re _obligated_ to kill me.”

Chat Noir shook his head, hesitating. “But—“

“I am hardly your father, by this point,” Papillon said. “Look at me. After this last battle, I don’t even look like him anymore. Gabriel is gone, long gone! You should have no reason to feel guilt about this, even.”

“Still,” Chat Noir said, struggling not to cry again. “I love you, Father. Despite everything…”

“Chat Noir,” Ladybug said softly. She tapped her earring. One spot remaining, flashing. “The moment this goes out, the string we’re standing on will disappear beneath our feet.”

And they were very, very high up. Chat Noir gritted his teeth, reached down, grabbing hold of Papillon. “Follow me. We’ll settle this up there.”

Ladybug nodded, and pressed down on her yoyo. Instantly, it began retracting, pulling back the string from its intricate design across the towers. Chat Noir pulled Papillon free, and carried him, racing up toward the top of the undamaged bell tower.

At the top, Chat Noir climbed up, hooking the back of Papillon’s suit onto the metal spire, leaving him dangling. Ladybug stood below, looking out over Paris, dark except for the light of a thousand fires. Her superpower wouldn’t fix everything, only what had been damaged in this fight, specifically. But she would fix what she could, before time ran out, and she turned back into Marinette. She exhaled, then threw her yoyo into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”  
Bright light, ladybugs, a wave of healing. It swooped down low, starting at the base of the tower, beginning to work through the rubble and the ruin. She could see it, far below, working its way slowly up toward them and fixing everything it passed over. She let herself relax, for the first time in the hours since the fight had begun, relieved.

A pained groan from behind her. She turned around, and had a moment of terrible realization. The Lucky Charm had brought Chat Noir back to her, miraculously, to fight at her side without any of his injuries.

But, the moment she activated Miraculous Ladybug, anything provided by the Lucky Charm had to disappear. He was curled in on himself now, at the base of the spire below his father, as his suit disappeared in a burst of ladybugs and light, as the pain and the life-threatening wounds returned.

“Oh no…” She leaned toward him, catching him before he could totally fall, pulling him toward her. Gently, she sank to her knees, lowering them both to the ground.

He was gasping in pain, struggling to breathe again. His eyes were so full of pain.

“Adrien,” she said softly, holding him. “Stay with me, okay? You have to focus, just until…” She glanced over the side of the building, at the healing wave, so far below, moving so slowly toward them. It could fix anything, or almost anything. It could probably fix him. But it couldn’t bring people back from the dead.

“Mari…nette…” he whispered, unable to speak any louder. His hands, trembling, clutched at hers.

“Shh, I know, it hurts,” she said. “You just have to make it a few more minutes, okay? Just… Just hold on! For me. Okay?”

His hands were so cold. The tower had so much damage, and the Miraculous Ladybug was moving so slowly, trying to repair it all. Why couldn’t it realize what was happening, and fix things in a different order? Couldn’t it see how hurt he was, how hard he was struggling to hold on?

She was losing him. She could feel it. His eyes were unfocusing, falling away from her. “Adrien!” she said sharply, holding him close. “Breathe! Come on! I can’t…” Tears. “I can’t lose you twice in one day. Please… Just a few more minutes…”

“I’m… s…sorr…” His heartbeat was slowing against hers. His hands dropped away, too weak to hold on. “…so tired…and… hurts…”

“I’m _begging_ you,” she whispered, looking down at him through blurry eyes. “Just stay awake. Just focus, a little longer. P-please… Adrien…”

Unsure of what else to do to hold his attention, she leaned down, kissing him. It might very well be the last kiss they ever had together. Desperate, feeling him fading, she kissed him, trying to get him to respond, to kiss back.

The wave hit, then, washing over them in a warm embrace of light and heat. Ladybugs swarmed them, covering everything, working to repair the damage. The suit was being pulled away from her, detransforming her. She sat up, touching his neck, searching for a heartbeat. “Adrien,” she said, trembling, crying. “I love you… so much…!”

The light brightened, too intense to see. For a moment, it consumed everything, all of her senses. Warm and comforting, it wrapped around her, soothing all of the hurts in her body, physical and emotional. She felt herself stilled within it, reoriented, gathered into an energy that understood her grief, and was ready to help her through it, and past.

A hand reached up, invisible in the overwhelming light, to touch hers. “I love you, too,” he said softly, then squeezed back.

 

.:|:.

 

They stood on top of the radio tower in front of the satellite dish, the three of them, looking down at the city below. So far, they hadn’t been spotted yet. That was good. The good luck wouldn’t last for long. Gamera exhaled, one hand on Volpina’s necklace, the other on Peacock’s pin, concentrating his powers into them until they glowed brighter and brighter.

“Okay,” he said at last, when he thought they had as full of a charge as he could manage. “Peacock. Do you remember your finishing move?”

“Thousand Eyes?” Peacock nodded, looking out at the city around her doubtfully. “I mean, I’ve only done it twice, now, but… Why do you want me to use it on the tower? Normally it’s for moving objects, right?”

“Under normal conditions, Thousand Eyes can paralyze targets within about a twenty-meter range, if you have full concentration,” Gamera said, pulling his hands away from their miraculouses. “I’m not sure how far it will stretch now that I’ve boosted it. But hopefully, from this high up, a pretty good distance, yeah? Especially if you stay still and concentrate, and if I keep enhancing it from here.”

“So what,” Volpina asked, “she can slow time or something?”

“Only for living things,” he replied. “She can’t, like, stop buildings from collapsing or anything.”

“Yeah,” Peacock said, wincing. “I still have bruises from the first time I tried that.”

“Volpina,” Gamera said, “you have a finishing move, too. Or at least, if that really is the real fox miraculous you’re using.”

“Which it is,” she said quickly, defensive.

“Yours is called ‘Nine Tails’,” he said, leaning out over the tower’s edge to get a good luck. “On its own, it basically lets you split yourself into nine different Volpinas, with some limited shapeshifting if you need it. But.” He grinned, looking down at the two dozen Volpina illusions clinging to the sides of the tower below. “We’re already way past that, with my boosting, even without you using your finishing move. How much you want to bet that, once you use it, we’ll have hundreds of you?”

He looked back at them. “So, this is the idea. We’ll only have five minutes from activation, before you both lose your powers and we’re back to square one. But I want Peacock to use Thousand Eyes, and paralyze as many villains as she can, for as far as she can. Then, Volpina, you’re going to multiply, spread out through the streets, and round up as many of them as you possibly can. See if you can clear them out altogether. We can refuel our kwamis while we run to the next location, start the process over again, and…”

“Clear Paris of supervillains, piece by piece,” Peacock said. “It’ll take a while, but… That might actually work.”

“Maybe,” Volpina said begrudgingly. “But, of _course_ I’m stuck doing the hard part, while you two chill out up here on the tower.”

Gamera laughed, reaching for the pair of headphones he had brought with him. Boosting their powers that perfectly was going to take perfect concentration. “Man, if you can manage to wipe this whole neighborhood of supervillains in five minutes by yourself, as soon as this is all over, I’m personally treating you to… To…”

Sunrise?

He looked down at the bracelet on his wrist, tapping it to bring up the time. Still definitely the middle of the night. So what was that glow on the horizon? It was moving too fast to be sunrise, too, white light spreading out, undercut here and there with deep purplish-black.

“What is it?” Peacock asked, confused. “It looks like… wings?”

He saw it, now, the way the energy in the sky was converging in on itself, taking shape. Whatever it was, it was gigantic, and incredibly bright and powerful. It slid over the sky, passing overhead, blocking out the stars and bringing something like daylight over every area it covered. Incredibly huge butterfly wings, made up entirely of some sort of strange energy, so large that they were beginning to stretch from horizon to horizon.

At the butterfly shape’s center was a small area of dark energy, roiling and churning in on itself. Slowly, it was beginning to grow, to spread through the white of the wings.

“Oh no,” Gamera said softly, recalling an image, drawn on the very last page of Master Fu’s book, very much like this. “I think it’s the butterfly kwami. It’s finally had too much dark energy. I think… I think it’s reverting.”


	17. Part 17

The light was soft, despite being very bright. It spread a twilight state through the streets, bathing everything in radiant white. For now. At the nucleus of the giant butterfly above, dark energy coiled and spread, and directly beneath it, the small circle of world was dark. This was the way the world would end. Everything, filled with shimmering brilliance, one last time. Then, as the new, artificial sun turned dark, the streets would grow dark as well.

And only then, with one planet-shattering blow, the world would end.

They stood on top of the belltower, side by side, looking up at it. Behind them, Tikki suddenly zipped up, pulling Plagg along behind her. “I found him!” she said, breathless from the effort.  
Adrien held out his hands, cupping them as Plagg was dropped into them. “Thank you, Tikki. Is he okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Plagg said weakly, curling in on himself. “Jus’ tired. ‘m fine. Miraculous Ladybug got me too.”

“Good,” Adrien said, stroking the kwami between the ears with his thumb. “Just rest, then. You really shouldn’t have discharged that Cataclysm like that!” He exhaled. “…But… Marinette would be dead if you hadn’t. Thank you, for that.”

“It might not matter anyways,” Marinette said, staring up at the bright glowing butterfly overhead. Its wingtips stretched from horizon to horizon now, and the dark bit at its center was definitely expanding outward. “Tikki. Is that what you told me about before? About what happens when a kwami absorbs too much dark energy?”

“Yes,” Tikki said softly, landing on Marinette’s shoulder. “I’m afraid so. After all he’s been through, Nooroo can’t remember why he cares if any of us live or die anymore. So he’s not holding back anymore.”

“What happens when the dark patches fill up the whole thing?” Adrien asked.

Tikki shivered. “He’ll fully wake up. He’ll look for dark energy, and the moment he finds any… He’ll destroy anything that stands in the way of him devouring it.”

Paris was illuminated all around them, its streets full of akumas, their victims, and the terrified, angry people fighting or fleeing from them. It might as well be dripping with dark energy, in its current state. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

Stirring, behind them. “Well then,” Papillon said quietly. “It appears that I’ve failed, hasn’t it?” The man looked up at the sky, at the consequence of all of his efforts so far. “My only reason for existence is to see the last creation of Gabriel Agreste to fruition. Now, no matter what I do… It can never happen.”

His hands, clawed and stretched from the manipulation of life energy, twitched at his sides, then began to crackle with life energy. “In the face of such a failure, there is only one thing left for me to do, isn’t there?” He snapped the energy spike out suddenly, lifting his arm to plunge it down toward his chest.

“Stop it!” Adrien leaped, grabbing onto the man’s arm. The energy spike went flying off into space, exploding against some distant building.

“What are you doing?” Papillon snarled. “You yourself know that the best thing for me is to die here! If I do it, you can even spare yourself the blame!”

“You dying won’t accomplish anything,” Adrien said, gripping the man’s arm. “It won’t undo what’s already happening. It won’t stop that thing in the sky!”

“And what about the akumas?” Papillon growled. “They’re linked to me. As long as I survive, so will they. Do you care so little about your friends and classmates?”

“I do!” Adrien yelled. “But killing you because you hurt them isn’t the answer. It never is! There’s always another way. I… I really believe that.”

“Peh.” Papillon looked away, disgusted. “Soft and idealistic as always.”

“Yes,” Adrien agreed. “Except now, I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

“Tikki,” Marinette said, averting her eyes from the sky. It was too bright, starting to hurt. She blinked, trying to clear her vision of the afterimage. “This has happened before, right? At the very least, it happened to the Peacock kwami. But you stopped it somehow, right? The planet is still here, so you must have. …How did you do it?”

“No, Marinette,” Tikki said. “You wouldn’t like it. Every time this happens, the Ladybug…”

Silence for a moment.

“She has to sacrifice herself, doesn’t she?” Marinette asked. Tikki was looking at her so sadly. Marinette reached up, touching her earring. The yoyo had swallowed so many butterflies, in her short year of wielding it. What was this, in the sky, if not just one gigantic, ultimate butterfly? “Is it like what Papillon did? If you feed it life energy, the yoyo gets bigger, and…”

“Marinette,” Adrien called. “I mean it for you, too. Geez, everyone stop trying to die around here. I mean, I’ve done it twice already today, but…”

“Is there another way?” Marinette asked.

“I…” Tikki trembled, holding onto Marinette tightly. “I wish I could say there was. We’ve never, in thousands of years, found one. This… This happens every time! I start to love my Ladybug, and then…”

Marinette turned, looking at Adrien. Adrien’s hand tightened on Papillon’s arm. He knew that look, that determination, even if it meant putting others first before herself. “So… what?” he asked, fighting down sudden fear. “Is it life energy? Like what Papillon has done?”

“More or less,” Tikki said, not wanting to say the words. “You have to be careful. It’s taboo for a reason. If you use it with selfish motives, it just creates more dark energy. But a truly selfless hero can sacrifice themselves to become more powerful than ever before. That’s the secret, behind combining my miraculous and Plagg’s. The powers of a god… But only if you’re willing to pay the ultimate price.”

“Then she would need both of them, even if she was going to do it…” He hesitated, looking down at his ring. “I don’t like this, Marinette. There’s got to be a different way. If it means you dying--!”

“I’ll die anyways, if I don’t do it,” Marinette said, wrapping her arms around herself and turning away. “Along with everyone else. If I’m doing it to save everyone, then you can’t get more selfless than that, right?”

“Maybe,” Adrien said, completely serious. “Or maybe it’s still selfish. The reason you want to save them is because you love them all so much, right? If you didn’t care about them, if it wouldn’t make you sad to lose them, you wouldn’t do it. That’s selfish, too, isn’t it?”

“Well, either way, we’ve still got try!” she said sharply. “I can’t just, just sit here, and let them…!”

He paused. Slowly breathed out. Then stepped forward, and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Then let me do it. Give me your miraculous. I’ll make the sacrifice. I don’t mind.”

“Adrien,” she said, whirling around to face him, reproving.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” he asked. “You have your family, and Alya and Nino, and everyone else… All of these people who will miss you so much…! Me, the only one who would miss me is my father, and…” He glanced at the man dangling from the spire behind them. “He doesn’t exactly remember me, at the moment. There will be less tears, this way.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “The others care about you too. You have friends, Adrien!”

It was true, he realized.

She lowered her voice, reaching to hold his hand in hers. “And you have me. I would miss you most of all.”

The light faded above them. Overhead, the dark energy was beginning to spread more rapidly, stretching toward the horizon. The moment it touched the wingtips, this would all be over.

They stared at each other, equally stubborn. After a moment, Adrien quirked a smile, a very Chat Noir type of look. “It seems we are at an impasse. Neither of us is going to let the other one die. Is that it?”

Marinette took a breath, looked down at his ring, nestled between her hands. “If it takes one-hundred-percent of a Ladybug’s life energy to stop a reverting kwami… What if, instead, two Ladybugs each gave fifty-percent? Could a person survive on that much?”

His eyes lit up, catching on. “I don’t know. Has it ever been tried before?”

Tikki, on Marinette’s shoulder, looked between them, uncertain. “I don’t think so. It’s not exactly a science, really.”

“No,” Marinette said, reaching up to one ear. “It’s magic. Miracles.” She removed one earring, holding it out to Adrien. “…What do you say? It’s risky, but… Maybe.”

He hesitated, before reaching out to take the earring. “Where you go, I go, for better or worse. Partners, right?”

“Yes. Partners.” Until the end, if need be.

Everything was growing darker, full of shadows. With the looming dark butterfly ahead, there weren’t even any stars. There might not be a dawn, ever again, if they failed. So they couldn’t fail, that was just all there was to it.

They stood on top of the belltower, side by side. Adrien pinned his earring to his shirt—it had worked for Papillon, so surely it would work for him. He reached out, holding Marinette’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers so that the ring would touch her skin as much as his. “Ready, my lady?” he asked softly.

“I am,” she said, steeling herself, setting her shoulders. “Okay. Tikki!”

“Plagg,” he said.

Their hands tightened around each other.

“Transform me!”

 

.:|:.

 

On the other side of the city, on a radio tower above the thickest part of the fighting, Gamera pressed his headphones to his ears, focusing on the music blasting out of them. Above him, clinging to the edge of the satellite dish, Peacock stood absolutely still, face tight with concentration. All around her in the air, thousands of eyes, like the ones on a peacock’s tail, were suspended. They quivered with energy, each one corresponding to a supervillain who was frozen somewhere on the ground below. It took all the strength she had, to keep every single one of them open.

Below them, Volpinas swarmed through the streets, too busy, for once, for any witty sarcasm or cutting remarks. As fast as they could possibly run, they darted toward supervillain after supervillain, snatching up possessed objects and carrying them at top speed toward the base of the radio tower.

It wasn’t going to matter. Gamera knew that it wouldn’t. The dark energy was almost to the wingtips at the horizon. And even if they managed to gather up every spare scrap of dark energy in this city, even if, somehow, they could magically gather every bit of dark energy anywhere in the world… So what? They couldn’t purify it, couldn’t destroy it.

They didn’t know what else to do, though. They were probably going to die. But they would die fighting, and they would die all together. Or mostly all together. He reached up to touch Peacock’s foot, half encouragement and half to give her a refill of power boost, glad that at least he would be by her side. Wherever Ladybug and Chat Noir were, he hoped they weren’t alone, either.

Some deeply-buried instinct made him look up, and open his eyes. There were two shapes, glowing white against the deep black shape in the sky, being pushed upwards by some sort of energy. He knew, immediately, who they were, even before he saw the yoyo whip out and begin spinning, or the staff extending beside them.

His heart sank, even as he felt relief. He had read the book. He knew how this ended.

Still. He extended his hand toward the two shapes in the sky, concentrating. “Five minutes, guys,” he whispered. That would have to be enough. “Kurma!”

His finishing move detonated, blasting a little extra energy into every miraculous holder in the area.

 

.:|:.

 

Tikki and Plagg were shielding them from the pain. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Chat Noir and Ladybug felt almost nothing as the strong energy vibrating around them lifted them slowly into the air, just a faint burning sensation, and a slowly increasing tiredness. There was no telling how long they would have before, even splitting the strain between them, they ran out of energy. They just had to hurry.

Now high, incredibly high above the ground, Ladybug leaned forward, spinning her yoyo in a tight, practiced circle. Still holding hands, they gritted their teeth, straining. The yoyo trembled, then shook as it expanded, feeding on their combined life energy. Bigger, bigger, until it dwarfed them in comparison. Ladybug pulled, struggling. “Ch-chat Noir… It’s too heavy… I can’t…!”

“That’s why there’s two of us,” he said, reaching around her. Together, they gripped the string, swinging the growing yoyo around and around.

Sensing the oncoming attack, an ethereal screech rent the air around them, as the gigantic butterfly pulsed in defensive anger. It blasted dark energy down toward them suddenly.

“Now,” Chat Noir said, lifting the hand that was entwined in hers.

Together, they shouted, “Cataclysm!”

Their hands shook with the power of the life-fueled attack. Together, yelling, they swiped down. A wave of white light pushed through the dark energy, and kept going, slicing through to the reverting kwami beyond. It shrilled with pain, trembling.

“Sorry,” Ladybug said, feeling exhausted. “But you’ve done enough, little kwami. We’re freeing you from evil!” They couldn’t stop yet. Not until they were finished. Together, they pulled the gigantic yoyo through one last turn, then threw it toward Nooroo. It opened wide, now as big as Paris, pouring out light and warmth. The colossal energy butterfly trembled, fighting it, before being sucked inside.

“Gotcha,” Chat Noir said, smirking.

Now, despite all of their kwamis’ efforts, it was beginning to hurt. Yelling, they pulled the yoyo around and around, faster and faster, heavier than the earth’s rotation, stronger than despair. At the last second, just before they could lose control, they moved their arms as one, snapping it out toward the earth. A small shape, no bigger than any normal kwami, whizzed out, flying toward the earth below.

“Bye bye, little butterfly,” Ladybug whispered, fighting to stay awake.

“Come on, my lady,” Chat Noir said, shaking her slightly. “We’re not done yet. One more thing—“

“I know, I know,” she said, elbowing him with a small smile. “This was my job first, you know. You don’t have to tell me how to do it.”

She turned in midair, looking down on Paris below, so dark, and not just because it was night. So much hurting and pain, for so long, that they had been powerless to fix. No more. It ended here. “On the count of three. Un. Deux…”

They gripped their hands around the yoyo string. “Trois.”

“Miraculous Ladybug!” they yelled, throwing it up into the air.

Too much energy. They felt it, suddenly, the awful draining solution, tugging everything away from them. If they had stopped there, before the finishing move, maybe they could have survived.

But Paris would have still been burning, people hurting and dying. Even if they had known, maybe they still would have done it. Adrien grabbed her before she could float away, holding her tightly as the healing wave of light and ladybugs poured down over the earth’s surface, taking _everything_ away from them with it.

Together, they watched, from high above. Paris was small in the distance, and they couldn’t see the details. But fires were being put out. Buildings were rebuilding themselves. Surely, akumas were disappearing, villains being purified. Surely their friends and family were being made safe again. They hoped so.

Ladybug shivered against Adrien, feeling dangerously tired, more drained than she had ever felt before. Her consciousness was ebbing, no matter how she tried to fight it, a strange coldness seeping through her body. Her life energy was all gone. She could feel it. The ring on Adrien’s hand was going dull gray, no longer able to respond to the lack of energy. She was sure the earrings were doing the same. “Well… we tried…” she managed.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, the side of his face resting against her hair. “It’s worth it, though, right? For the world?”

“Yes,” she answered, believing it completely.

Adrien shuddered against her, fighting the sleepy fog overtaking his brain. “It’s… too bad… I would have loved… so much… to live with you, a little longer.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

They were fading fast. It would take a miracle to save them now. But they had already used so, so many miracles. At some point, even the luckiest person had to see their luck run out. As their vision turned gray, they watched the world below, glowing in the light of the Miraculous Ladybug, slowly healing from months of turmoil. Tomorrow, it would recover, pick itself back up off of the ground, and carry on. Without them. Thanks to them.

With the last of their dying strength, they lifted shaking hands, clenching them together, before bumping fists.

_“Bien joué.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, an epilogue and a conclusion.
> 
> *quickly ducks incoming projectiles*


	18. Part 18

“So then I just sort of woke up, on the ground,” the purple kwami was saying, frowning. “And all of you were looking down at me. But… That’s it. I don’t remember anything from before that!”

“Aw, it’s okay!” the peacock kwami said, smiling as he zipped slightly past the butterfly kwami, then slowed down to let him catch up. “I know exactly how that feels. It’s scary at first, but it’ll be okay! Alya and Wayzz and the others are super nice, and they’ve got lots of good food! They’re going to take care of us, until we start to remember.”

“That’s nice, I guess,” the butterfly kwami said, frowning. “Still, though, it’s all so confusing. If I could just remember anything, even my name…”

“Oh,” the peacock kwami said, brightening. “That’s easy! I know that. It’s—“

“Hey back there,” Alya called, glancing over her shoulder. She was several meters ahead on the snow-covered sidewalk, holding a stack of books as she walked. School was still several blocks away. “Wayzz is going to be furious with you if you tell him.”

The peacock kwami laughed nervously, speeding up. “Sorry, Alya. Coming!”

 

.:|:.

 

The charcoal moved over the paper, tracing smooth, even lines. It had been years and years, since Gabriel had drawn anything by hand. He had almost forgotten what it felt like. It was true that he was only being allowed a charcoal stick because, fragile as it was, it couldn’t pose any threat to even the weakest person. But still, he was happy to have it. “Thank you, Nathalie, for these,” he said into the phone. “It was very kind of you to bring me these, after… After everything I did to you.”

From the other side of the thick, bullet-proof glass, Nathalie scoffed into her receiver. “Don’t be confused, Gabriel. I’m only here because my new employer wished it, not for you.”

“Even so, you are here. So I am thankful.” The Gorilla had taken the first plane out of Paris, the moment the military borders had been withdrawn, weeks before. Everywhere, all of Gabriel’s former business partners, political allies, and even mere friendly acquaintances were quickly disappearing, making themselves scarce whenever his name was mentioned. Well, he could hardly blame them, could he? He could remember nothing from that month, but the things he had supposedly done under the akuma’s influence had been monstrous. Everything he had done, since picking up the butterfly brooch for the first time, had been monstrous.

Nathalie cleared her throat, looking at the former supervillain and fashion designer, now wearing a simple orange jumpsuit. “Your visiting time is limited, so your lawyers have also asked me to pass a message along. They are attempting a new appeal. Part of it is claiming that akuma possession counts as legally-defined insanity. The other part is that, since none of the physical damage ended up lasting permanently, you cannot be culpable for anything other than emotional damages. There’s a lot of debate, and the press is going to be outraged. But your lawyers are confident they can get your sentence amended, at least. Perhaps a permanent house arrest, in the family home.”

The charcoal scratched to a stop. “Nathalie. Tell them not to do that.”

“Pardon?”

Gabriel looked up, frowning. “I don’t deserve mercy, and I don’t want it. Someone like me deserves much worse than prison. I deserve death! Even this is too much, too kind a fate, for someone like me, who… who…”

His last memory of Adrien’s face had been his son, looking up at him in horror and revulsion, that day so long ago, shortly before he had akumatized himself. He had been so horribly blind. Godlike powers, control of other people and even the entire world, the ability to bring lost people back… All of it paled. The greatest gift had been in front of him all along, the chance to see his son grow up, to be a part of his life. And he had thrown it away.

He looked at the paper in front of him, a sketch of a ball gown, red with black spots, ladybug motifs. Derivative and poorly thought out. He was losing his touch, all sense of passion. Vision blurring, he slowly closed the cover over the sketchbook. “I don’t want anyone to help me.”

“Sir.”

Nathalie’s voice was utterly cold as she stood, holding her half of the phone. “What you want hardly _matters_ anymore. Do you understand that? Justice is all well and good for superheroes, but it has no place when it comes to the law. Your lawyers are rich, powerful men, with reputations to uphold. If their wealthiest client spends the rest of his life in prison, it makes _them_ look bad, and they just will not have that. Beyond that, there are others who, for reasons that escape me, have deigned to continue caring about you. Like my employer, for instance. So.”

She fixed him with a steely gaze, cold and commanding, no longer afraid of him. “For once in your life, _sir_ , you are going to shut up, sit down, and let the people that care about you do their work. Understand?”

He stared back at her from behind the glass, stunned. “Nathalie…”

“I will be back next week with more charcoal,” she said. “I suggest you not waste it all until then.” Without another word, she hung up the phone, turned her back on him, and left.

 

.:|:.

 

“Lila!” Alya called, standing at the bottom of the steps of a very fancy-looking home. She rubbed her hands together, trying to stay warm. “Come _on_! You’re going to make us late for the first day back at school.”

Frowning, Lila slowly, carefully worked her way down the steps, even though the ice had long since been carefully cleared away. “That’s very kind of you, but really, you don’t have to wait around on me all the time. Despite your _continual_ offers, I’m still not interested in joining your little club.”

“Why not?” Alya asked, amused. Lila was always so polite, until she transformed into Volpina, and suddenly all of the snark came out. “The moment there’s a problem, you’ll end up fighting alongside us anyways. We might as well coordinate, right?”

The peacock kwami popped out of Alya’s bag, waving. “Hi, Lila! Hi, Monsieur Fox-Kwami-Who-Still-Refuses-To-Introduce-Himself-To-Me! Are you having a good morning?”

Two beady yellow eyes poked out of the pocket of Lila’s coat, glaring at the peacock kwami suspiciously before ducking back down again.

Alya laughed, turning in the direction of the school, just a couple of blocks ahead. “I think you’re just grumpy because you spend all your time hanging around that half-corrupted kwami of yours. You really should let Wayzz and Master Fu try to help it. They keep offering.”

“I know,” Lila said, lifting her head high. “But, again, we’re not interested. And I was grumpy before.” She smiled slightly to herself, walking just far enough away from Alya that no one could say that they were, quite exactly, walking to school together. “My kwami and I, we suit each other.”

“Heh, have it your way,” Alya said, shrugging. Her boots swiveled on crunchy half-melted snow, as she turned into the last corner. Collège Françoise Dupont lay just ahead, as tall and bright as ever, ready for life to resume.

 

.:|:.

 

“Okay, children,” Miss Bustier said brightly, bringing her hands together. “You have five minutes until class begins. I know we’ve been away for a while, but I expect serious attention after that, understand?”

A chorus of mumbled, distracted responses rushed back. From the back forward, friends who, in some cases, hadn’t seen each other for months were starting to take their seats. Nathanael reluctantly slid a drawing of the cityscape into his backpack, sliding over to make room for Lila. Juleka and Rose huddled around Rose’s phone, watching something with a smile together. Ivan reluctantly moved away from Mylene, trudging toward his seat on the other side of the aisle. Kim handed Max a screwdriver, watching with a confused look as Max worked on some sort of gadget full of loose wires and circuit boards. Alix tapped her fingers impatiently on her desk, already ready to be out of class before it started, racing through the slippery streets on her skates.

Nino could see Chloe and Sabrina, sitting primly across the aisle from him, looking at a magazine. On the outside, they looked mostly the same as ever, if not a little worse for wear. Chloe’s hair hadn’t been done recently, judging by the exposed roots, and her fingernails were scuffed, the paint chipped. But she still wore the same proud smirk on her face, as she watched Sabrina scribble something onto a list of some sort, self-assured and regal.

“Master?” Wayzz said, sitting on the desk in front of Nino. For, after all, their covers had been long since blown in the battle against Nooroo, and there was no point in hiding anymore.

“Dude, don’t call me that,” Nino said, distractedly tearing his eyes away from Chloe. “We’re equal partners, right?”

“Right, but still, it’s traditional.” Wayzz frowned, glancing at the black box, being turned over and over in Nino’s hands. “Surely you’re not really thinking of giving that girl the bee miraculous.”

“I don’t know, man,” Nino said. “I’m thinking it over. She’s kind of different, lately, you know?”

“Even so,” Wayzz cautioned, “If recent events have taught us anything, it’s that you should be very, very careful who you choose to hand those out to. The fate of the world lies upon that responsibility.”

Nino’s smile disappeared instantly. “I know. I get it. It’s just a thought.” He bent down, sliding the black box into his backpack. Still, he would be watching Chloe, for a while.

The bell rang, cutting through the chatter and laughter. “There we go!” Miss Bustier called, rapping on the podium. “Quiet, please, everyone! If you haven’t already, make your way to your seats. We’ve missed more than two months! Now, M. Damocles is very firm about this—he wants us to avoid skipping a year if at all possible. But it’s going to require a lot of hard work from all of us, together, to make up for last time if we want that to happen. I’m trusting all of you to give me your best efforts with this second start to the trimester! Now…” She reached down for a list, even though there was no need. She knew all of her students by heart. “Juleka?”

“Present!” the girl called from the back, completely back to normal.

“Good. And Rose?”

“Pres—“

The door opened. Alya and Lila stood in it, looking panicked. “Sorry, Miss Bustier,” Alya said, clutching her bag. “We ran all the way when we realized how late we were! It was just… just…”

Miss Bustier looked them over, then smiled. “Probably saving the world again, hm? Don’t make a habit of it, Miss Cesaire. To your seats, please.”

Lila pushed past Alya, walking toward the steps. Right in the middle of roll call, too. So much for sneaking in unnoticed. She stepped into the aisle between rows of seats, feeling a slight pang in her chest when she spotted Adrien’s, completely empty beside Nino.

…No. She had to stop feeling sad about it. It was time to move on, and stop being hung up on the past. She lifted her head, climbing up to join Nathanael in the back.  
Alya slid next to Nino, not really wanting to sit alone on her row, either. She smiled and, the moment Miss Bustier was distracted with roll call again, snuck a quick peck to his cheek. “Good morning, honey.”

“Good morning,” he whispered, smiling back. “New phone?”

“Finally, right?!” She slid it out onto the table, an upgraded smartphone with new bells and whistles. A battered ladybug charm dangled from it, the only thing the same as before. “It’s super fast. This morning’s update was uploaded from it. Just wait until I jailbreak it, and then—“

“Miss Bustier?” Chloe said suddenly, raising her hand.

Alya stiffened, covering her new phone with her hand. That little snot! She was totally going to try to get her into trouble with the teacher, just five minutes into the first day back at class!

But Chloe was holding up her own phone, not even looking at Alya. “I just got a text from Daddy. There’s a bank robbery on the south side of the city, and the police are overwhelmed. He wanted to let you know, right away.”

Miss Bustier sighed. “Already? I had hoped we would make it at least an hour. Well… It can’t be helped.” She lowered her list. “Alya. Nino. Lila. You’re dismissed. Stop by the principle’s office at the end of the day to pick up your homework packet, and I expect to see you in tonight’s tutoring session. As God is my witness, I’m going to educate you children somehow. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” they called, standing up quickly. They looked at each other, then ran for the door, already reaching for their miraculouses.

Miss Bustier watched them go, the kwamis trailing behind them. Frowned, then picked up the list. By school rules, she had to call the name, even though she could clearly see the empty seat. “Marinette?”

 

.:|:.

 

His phone was vibrating. He glanced at it, frowning. “Looks like a bank robbery. Should we go?”

“Nah.” She leaned back on the rooftop, exhaling luxuriously as she soaked up the winter sun. “I’m still pretty tired. Let’s let the new guys handle it, yeah?”

He smiled, settling back in beside her, on the little blanket they had spread out over the rooftop of the bakery. They were surrounded on all sides by a small mountain of platters, loaded up with all sorts of different baked goods and treats. Every few minutes, Madame Cheng or Monsieur Dupain would appear and leave them a new one, and he could hardly complain when they did. But for the moment, they were being left alone. That, too, was just fine by him.

“What’s with the serious face?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh. You know. Just… trying to figure it out still.”

“How we survived?” he shrugged. “You’re not going to be able to. What is there to say? It was miraculous.”

“I think that word is starting to be a little overused, don’t you?” Still, she was smiling. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. I just keep running in circles with it in my brain. Even if it didn’t kill us, we had to be so, so many kilometers up in the air there at the end! How did we end up back on the ground without being crushed? And why are our miraculouses fused to our bodies now?” She tugged at the small jewel in her ear, frowning.

“That’s easy enough,” Tikki piped up beside her, emerging from a pile of strawberries. “You used up all of your life energy. If it weren’t for Nino using his finishing move when he did, we wouldn’t have been able to catch you in time. Now, you don’t have any of your own, and constant contact with your miraculous is the only thing that’s keeping you alive. If it ever comes off, you’re done for! So…” She smiled. “Plagg and I decided we weren’t going to let that ever happen. You’re stuck with them.”

A muffled sound that could be interpreted as vague agreement came from a large canister of camembert cheese.

“You see?” Tikki said. “It makes perfect sense.”

“Mostly,” Marinette said, playing with her earring. “I mean, it’s not like I mind. It’ll stop villains from always trying to steal it, even. But it seems weird, after all that talk about sacrificing, that we get to come away with hardly any consequences at all.”

“Well.” Tikki looked uncomfortable for a moment. “There _is_ a consequence.”

“Oh?”

“With the right training, a miraculous user can usually live for five or six centuries,” Tikki said slowly. “Plagg and I did the math, and… I’m sorry. You’ll only be able to make it two or three, we think.”

Silence. Then Adrien suddenly burst into laughter.

“What?” Tikki cried. “Why are you laughing? Isn’t that bad news?”

“That’s still _way_ more than most humans get,” he said, grinning as he wrapped his arm around Marinette. “Honestly, even if you told me we only had two or three days, I’d still be so grateful. At the end of it, all I could think about was how I wanted a little more time, by her side. Now I get it. I’m the luckiest person in the world.”

“Aw,” Marinette said, leaning into him with a small smile of her own. “That’s sweet.”

“I mean it,” he said, nuzzling her affectionately. “I’m not ‘kitten’ about it.”

“Blagh!” Plagg poked his head out of the cheese carton, gagging. “You’re both ridiculous. I’m about to throw up over here! Look, you wanted to watch the sun rise, right?” He gestured at the horizon, light blue in the morning light. “Behold! It’s risen! Can we go now?”

“Well,” Tikki said slowly. “The idea was that, as soon as we were done, we would be responsible and go to school for the day. On the other hand, there _is_ that bank robbery, and while there won’t be supervillains, the right thing to do would probably be to help out a little.”

“In a little while,” Marinette said, sleepy. But a good, healthy sort of sleepy, born out of warmth and contentment, lacking all pain. “I’ll be responsible and hard-working tomorrow. For now, all I want to do is lay here. It’s peaceful, you know?”

Adrien looked around at the rooftops of Paris, stretching on and on to the horizon. Peaceful. That was right. “Well,” he said softly, leaning his head against hers. “If that’s what the lady wants.”

Together, they lay on the rooftop, watching the sun rise higher into the sky until, at long last, they drifted off into well-deserved sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I felt too bad, so I went ahead and wrote it up tonight anyways.
> 
> Thank you for reading my story, and thank you to everyone who commented, gave kudos, bookmarked, messaged, etc. This was a lot of fun to write, and all of the support made it even better. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> This was a lot of writing in a very little amount of time (for me), and I've got original projects that need a little attention, so I'll probably take a short break. But I'll probably be back, sooner or later. Once I get obsessed with a fandom, I get obsessed pretty hard. Thank you, again, for reading and supporting Stray, and please have a wonderful day.


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